Second Star
by romanov16
Summary: "You deserve better than me. You got lots of Soc boys chasin' after ya. Pick one of them." "I don't want any of them, Johnny Cade." When fifteen year old Wendy Allen moves to Tulsa after a family tragedy, most of her time goes to taking care of them. She'd like to be a teenager again, but fitting in with Socs of her class is difficult. Yet somehow, a Greaser touches her heart.
1. A Girl Called Wendy

Love is not blind, it is an extra eye, which shows us what is most worthy of regard ~ J.M. Barrie

* * *

To live, would be an awful big adventure~ Peter Pan (2003)

* * *

Chapter I

I DON'T OWN OUTSIDERS. THIS IS JUST FOR FUN.

* * *

S*S

It was... _odd_. That was the only thought that could form in the whirling blur of her mind, as Wendy Allen carefully slide her legs out of the air-condition car seat, wide eyes squinting in the sunlight. The rest of her slight figure soon followed suit, coming to stand like a white bird in the dry, sheering heat of the Oklahoma summer. The fifteen year old gazed with an almost hypnotic fascination at the new house, small olive hands tucked tightly against the white skirt of her brown belted dress, in order to keep them from fidgeting.

She bit her lip, tugging the skin in timid reflection. Well, in all honesty, _new_ might not have been the best way to describe the building in front of her, Wendy had to admit. Five bedrooms, three bathrooms, a study for Dad to work in, a stone patio and pool in the back...

If Wendy were to close her eyes, ignore the heat, and think only the _happiest things..._ she could've really made herself believe that this looming building, and this picturesque, cookie-cutter row of lovely homes was really the Allens' old residence, that had stayed behind, back in Washington D.C., instead of this wealthy west side address in Tulsa City. Golly, and if she closed them _tightly,_ until her eyelids were lit in flashes of red and orange- she could just see herself and her big sister Connie sunbathing in the backyard, while her brothers play fought in the front. Dad would be taking a brake from work, and watching them from the grill. And then there would be Mama, her overall's still stained with dirt from fretting over the rose garden, bring them lemonade...

Wendy stiffen, blinked. Then she sighed, her delicate shoulders slumping.

But the heat was impossible to ignore as it encompassed everything -hissing on the driveway, and turning the normally tamed waves of her black hair into a wild mess beneath her dedicated Mary Jane headband. And Mama wasn't here, and this house would never feel her presence, or know her touch. And that alone made this house as different from home as humanly possible -more so than if a giant hand had taken the thing and placed it on the blue side of the moon.

Nevertheless, there were still some things inline with her daydream...namely her brothers. Sam and Eric had been the first of the family out of the car, laughing and chasing each other across the immaculate lawn with the obvious glee of ten year old twins, mindless of anything but each other, and getting under the feet of the poor moving men trying to bring their furniture into the house.

"Boys...boys!" Wendy squeaked out as they somehow manged to nearly trip the man carrying Mama's favorite reading chair...which nearly crushed _them._ Moving before she even realized what she was doing Wendy had both boys by the hand with each of her own, yanking them to her side.

"I'm really sorry, sir," she tried to apologized to the men, but they waved her off with a wry smile.

"Nothin' we haven't seen 'fore Miss," one said drily.

But even with that, Wendy tugged the twins a little ways away, towards the middle of the green lawn. She bent forward until her hands rested on her knees, gaze leveled with theirs, the familiarity of the position comforting her. At least that, this, was the same. "Can you please help bring your stuff up to your room for me?"

"Ah, do we have to Wendy?" Sam groaned to her, pouting in the way that he did when he wanted his way. Eric copied his posture. Sam was the leader out of the boys, where he went, Eric would go. That was how it was. The were cute little boys, sharing many traits with her -small frames, round faces,and dark waves over smooth olive skin. Button noses and lively eyebrows. And Mama's robin egg blue eyes. "Course, the boys' eyes had little evil glints in them that hers and Mama's never had. Ones that always meant trouble.

Wendy had gotten good at handling trouble. Specifically these two. She raised her eyebrows and looked away, pretending to think.

"Well," she began slowly, pushing a frizzy lock behind her ear. "-if you get your stuff out before me and Connie do, you'll have first pick of the bedrooms you want...and Con's been talking about taking two for her closet space, so unless your happy sleeping with a bunch of perfumed minidresses and glamor magazines until she moves out for collage, I would pretend my name was Barry Allen, and _run._ "

By the time she had mentioned perfume, both of the twins had turned a sickly shade of greenish-white. Without a word, they bolted for their own little piles of boxes with sloppy names written across them. Relaxing, she then considered her own advice, and hurried to get the boxes with her own name on them.

Just as she was leaning down to pick up the nearest one, their was a snort behind and a wide, comforting hand on her head, messing up her hair even more.

"I see you got the Lost Boys well in hand, Wen," Dad murmured to her, softly like fallen snow, the same color as the grey that had spiked his dark hair last year. Dad always seemed to speak softly nowadays, his brown gaze of bleeding earth to far away for Wendy or any of her siblings to touch. She forced a smile, and let his arm wrap more fully around her, closing her eyes at the kiss dropped to her forehead.

"Like always Daddy," she answered.

"I know moving was hard on all of you. It's hard on me too...leaving. But this will be a new start for us, Wen, I promise." Here, Connie was just walking by, a taller, younger version of Mama with curlier hair. She had Dad's height, and so was was powerless from being wrapped in his other arm. "You and Connie and the boys...you'll have a chance to be kids again."

Wendy knew that was important to him, so she didn't say anything. Connie's gaze flickered away, mouth twitched up and fingers curled into her green minidress before relaxing. The boys could be kids again, they were young enough. But whatever childhood the Allen girls ever had left to them died the moment Mama's Doctor came out, and the look on his face had destroyed what hope they had for her. After seeing what they had in the following short months...Wendy doubted they could ever be kids again. Teenagers, maybe. But not kids.

* * *

S*S

It wasn't fifteen minutes after the Allens begun bringing their stuff into the house that they got their first visitors from the neighbors, people whose faces Wendy had only ever seen on Christmas and birthday cards, near mythical figures from her childhood, like the tooth-fairy. Still, that was enough for her to recognized the Valances'. How could she not, when they were the ones to help Dad move out here. Even help set up the paper work for his dental practice.

Mr. Valance was in front, leading his wife and daughter. He was a slender, almost graceful man, with bright green eyes behind thin rim glasses. He looked both weathered and intelligent, like a lawyer would be, Wendy supposed. But there was such a gentle, powerful sympathy to his face as he looked at her father, that Wendy felt her reservations bleed away.

"Frank...I'm glad to see you got here alright." Even Mr. Valance's voice was gentle, though both the hug and the handshake he gave Dad was strong and confidant, willing it into his old war buddy.

"I'm glad too Ed...always wanted to see the southwest...me and..." Dad trailed off, shoulders slumping.

"I'm sorry about Mary. She was one in a million."

Dad manage a grin. Almost. "She had to be, to put up with me...but here, enough, I want to you meet my girls."

Mr. Valance's eyebrows darted upward to his balding hairline, beaming with delight. "No...these fine ladies can't be little Connie and Wendy Allen."

Wendy felt her face heat up. It was odd to have a grow up you didn't really know be so happy to see you. Still, she managed a shy smile. "Hello sir."

Connie nodded, but her smile was a little cold. Wendy fought the urge to squirm. Really, the man was perfectly nice. No need to be rude.

"Hi yourself darlin'," Mr. Valance greeted her back. He chuckled a little. "The last time I saw you, you mother had you on her hip, and your brothers in her belly. Lord, time sure fly's...I had hair back then."

When the resulting laughter died down, Mr. Valance reached behind him and gestured his own daughter forward. She was a very pretty girl, red-headed like her own rather shy mother, with smooth lily-white skin and her father's eyes. She had a high forehead and a kind, welcoming smile...though oddly enough, it reminded her a little bit of Connie, like this girl was measuring something, or trying too.

"But come'ere, I want ya'll my daughter. Sherri, honey, this is my very good friend Frank."

"Hi, sir," Sherri greeted, eyes softer as they looked at Dad. Wendy decided she liked her.

"Hello hon," Dad returned.

"And this here are Frank's girls. Connie and Wendy. You and Wendy are the same age, so you'll be in the same grade when school starts back up. You'll help her out, show her around, won't ya dear?"

"Of course."

Dad grinned more fully this time, and nudged Wendy. "You hear that Wen, you'll already have a friend when school starts."

Connie snorted, and Wendy redden, she couldn't help it. She knew he didn't mean it that way, but for all the world Dad made it sound like she couldn't make her own friends. She wasn't a baby that needed playdates.

Still, maybe there was a silver-lining here, since the measuring look was gone from Sherri's face, replaced by knowing empathy. The taller girl smiled, for real this time, and Wendy smiled back.

"Do you want me to help move your stuff in Wendy?" Sherri asked politely. Translation -want to get out of here?

"Sure," Wendy replied. Translation -yes, thank you very much.

She felt a little guilty leaving Dad, but she was sure he could handle this, Mr. Valance seemed so kind. Plus, he and Dad served together in the Europe during the war. So if anybody besides her could understand Frank Allen, it was him.

So she regathered her share of her boxes, let Sherri pick her own, and made her way into the house.

* * *

S*S

The cool interior of the house only added to Wendy's feeling of oddness; the white walls, glass circular window above the door, and winding staircase leading to the second floor eerily reminding her of home. If there was _W.M.A_. carved into the top wooded stair, she would officially declare herself in the Twilight Zone.

The boys were in their own room -it had never occurred to them not to share one- fighting over who would get the top of their bunk bed. Wendy snorted in fond amusement, and Sherri allowed herself a wider smile. Walking into the next bedroom over, Wendy beamed to see that her bed was already in place, white and pink comforter shinning softly in the light. But her favorite part had to be the cushioned window-seat; outside of which grew a large oak, it branches strong and wide enough for two people to sit on.

It wasn't the biggest room in the house...but it was perfect for her. _Maybe this won't be a bad home._

"Wow. I see you like books," Sherri commented from behind her. Turning, Wendy found the other girl had open one of the boxes she had carried it, filled to the brim with the library Wendy had transported across the U.S. of A.

She blushed, and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, and that's only the one box. I've got more in the others."

"No kiddin'?" Sherri asked, looking interested.

"Nope. I don't think I could go a day without reading _something_."

Sherri's gave a knowing bob of her head, the green of her eyes coming alive with a more personal, human light. It was like a door opening. "I hear ya. I was like that myself a few years ago. Don't read like that anymore though...don't have the time I use to."

Tipping her head down, so that her dark red hair fell over her face like a curtain, Sherri looked thoughtful as she examined a few of the covers. "There's an awful lot of fairy tales here."

Wendy lifted her shoulders in a shrug. "Those are my favorite's. My parents' too."

Sherri arched a perfectly thin eyebrow, and peered at the smaller girl. "That wouldn't be why they named ya _Wendy_ now, would it?"

To prove her point, the redhead lifted a dog ear, well loved copy of _Peter Pan_ out of its box, tapping a white finger to its cover.

Wendy's heart gave a sweet sort of tug at the sight of it, and smiled lovingly as Sherri handed it over. It was a beautiful edition, with delicate golden wording across it's front.

"Yeah it is, _Peter Pan_ my Dad's absolute favorite story. When the Disney picture came out, I think we saw it eleven times."

Sherri smiled genuinely. "That's real sweet. And Wendy's such a pretty name."

"Thanks," Wendy returned, flattered, as she put Peter Pan in a place of honor on her bed. "...Sherri's nice too."

She tried to keep her face straight as she said this. Truthfully, she didn't think Sherri was a very pretty name. The sound of it was too shaped for her taste, tasting like alcohol as it left the mouth.

Thankfully, Sherri made a face as well. "Oh right, my name's Cherry. I hate the name Sherri. Only my parents' call that."

Wendy lifted her own eyebrows now. "Cherry?"

"Yeah, cause of my hair."

Cherry held a few glistening strands up, as though Wendy needed help identifying it's ruby red color. She couldn't help a flicker of envy from bubbling up within her. She'd always wanted to be a red head, ever since she was eight and read _Anne of Green Gables._

"That's a lot cuter," Wendy admitted. Cherry grinned, long suffering. " _I_ know that, but my folks won't let me change it."

They exploded into giggles here, and after that, conversation flowed easily between them. Wendy talked about her favorite fairy tales as a kid, and then her hope of writing some of her own when she was older. Cherry talked about her boyfriend, Bob Sheldon, and life in Tulsa, and hope of getting an English degree at university, and marrying Bob someday.

"You ever had a boyfriend, Wendy?"

She giggled again, cheeks pink. "No."

Cherry shock her head in disbelief. "Come on, a pretty girl like you?"

"I could barely talk to boys back home."

Cherry clucked her tongue, and eyed her shrewdly. "Well that somthin' we'll just have to fix, won't we?"

"You can try. Connie has for ages." With very little luck in that regard, Wendy had to admit. "She thinks it because I read so much -I scare the boys away."

Cherry huffed, and tossed her hair. "Now that just nonsense. You seem like the quiet type. I think you just need some..." she seemed to fish her brain around for the word. "Introduction."

Wendy cocked her head, her eyes blinking like a owl. "Introduction?"

"Of course," Cherry told her brightly, with an air of sophistication she normally attributed to Connie. "Introductions go a long way here in Tulsa, Wendy. When ya know the right people, all kinda doors can open to you. Tell ya what, spent the summer with Bob and me. Will introduce you to our friends. That way, you'll have some standing when you go to school. That sound good to you?"

Sound good? Wendy had been effectively friendless long before her family had up and moved. As much as she loved her family...it would be nice to be with people who enjoyed her company rather than relied on it.

"Yeah, that sounds good. I'd like that."

* * *

Cherry was good to her word. That last month of summer was one of the most fun she'd had in her life. Not a week had past after the Allen's arrived before the redhead was introducing Wendy to her circle of friends.

First of all there was "Bob" Robert Sheldon. Cherry's boyfriend. When Cherry introduced them, Wendy's eyes had swept over his tall, lean form, jet black hair and charming grin with a little bit of awe. He looked very nice besides Cherry -strong and tan and just a hint reckless. Still, Wendy didn't think she would like him as a boyfriend for herself...he was too tall for her petite height -it would look ridiculous if a boy that tall tried to kiss her. He was just a little too...perfect.

Then there was Marcia Brown -Wendy's absolute favorite besides Cherry. Petite like herself, Marcia was pretty in a modest way, with dark shinnying eyes and brown hair that curled around her cheeks. But what really made her stand out was her humor. Marcia was one of the funniest girls Wendy had ever meet, and she seemed to have made it her personal mission to figure out a person's funny bone and tickle it mercilessly. Wendy would giggle for ages after hanging out with Marcia.

Then came the others. Randy Anderson and David Holland were the biggest presences besides Bob, which made sense seeing that they were basically his right and left hand. Randy was taller even than Bob, with crazy brown curls and a matching wild streak, though his was tempered somewhat. David -smaller and towheaded- was his younger stepbrother, and two were closer than most siblings could probably claim to be. Being a big brother had become a became a part of Randy's personality to the point where often times he played the role to all of them with out knowing it. Wendy had the sense Bob liked that, even as it annoyed him.

Brown haired Peter Martin and his auburn haired girlfriend, Peggy Stephens, were the quiet people, like Wendy, and at first, she had hung near them. There was comfort there, familiarity, and they had some great talks about what was better, Tolkien or Dickens. On top of that, Peggy was an artist, she loved to draw and did quite well. But unless you were a friend, she would never do it for you.

Of course, Wendy didn't like everybody in their little group. Lillian Wood was the exception. With dark brown hair and icy eyes, Lillian's father made more money than most of them, and for that reason seem to look down her perfectly thin nose at most of the group -Cherry and Bob begin the exception, as their family had an equal income. Really, Wendy's dislike was formed when the girl was rude to Marcia of all people, just because Marcia had tried to make her laugh. No even her own boyfriend was safe form her contempt, though thankfully, David remained oblivious in his near worship of her.

Wendy could see how much this got to Randy, bugged him as it could only bug an older sibling. Especially when Lillian's eyes swept over to James "call me Jack" Pescare. Green eyed, tan skin, lean and powerful from his time on the football field, Jack always had an edge of relaxed aggression and slinky sort of charm. It was a strange combination. He also had a mean streak, so Wendy could see why Lillian was drawn to him. Bob seem to like him around for the challenged Jack provided to his own leadership of the group, even though Cherry's lips would thin when he said something particularly...unpleasant. Cracks against Negros were his favorite.

Whatever else could be said about him, Jack was not a follower. Bob didn't have a lot of friends, or maybe even people in his life who would push against him. Wendy just tried to stay out of it all. Specially since Jack couldn't seem to get that she didn't _like_ being around him. And so resolved to follow her around until she did (which wasn't working, by the way.) Wendy couldn't see herself liking him -not when she had the sense that to Jack, you were only a person worthy of respect if _he_ felt you had something to offer, something of value. Mama's family had a bad history with people like that, during the war.

Still, altogether, driving around all over Tulsa in Bab's blue mustang was a thrilling change from being at home. Connie would sometimes join them, and the haughtily prettiness of the eighteen year old served to keep Jack's attention off of her, and annoy Lillian, so that was a win-win if Wendy every saw one.

Besides...when the day was over, and the girls had to go home, and the twins came back from exploring the woods behind their house...the sudden shift to silence was jarring after a day of noise. Dinner would be quiet, and afterwards the family would drift off. Dad to his study, the twins to the patio, Connie to her room, telephone going softly all night long. As for Wendy, she would clamor out to sit in the nook of her oak tree, back against the bark as tried to lose herself in another story. Or get started writing her own.

But more often than not, Wendy just ended up leaning back against the trunk, eyes wandering up to visit the stars kindled in the night-sky, while her mind drifted back, far away to when the nights weren't so horrible silent. Nights use to belong to Mama, who would sing soft, cooing tunes from her own childhood, in strange languages she refused to teach them.

"You don't need to understand the words to hear the song," she would tell them. "You just need to feel the _szeretet_. The love."

Love.

 _Szeretet._

That was the one foreign word Mama ever taught them. To Mary Allen, it was the most important word in existent.

 _The nightingale, she went away, she came back in the spring time, she has learned nothing new, she is still singing her old beloved songs._

Suddenly angry, Wendy closed her book of Mendelssohn's songs with a snap, before clamoring back inside. She had the sudden urge to throw it against the wall. But she didn't. She couldn't run the risk of disturbing anybody in the house -specifically Dad and the boys, who were asleep. Instead, she would burrow herself in the covers of her, hands over her ears to try and keep out the silence.

Most people would think she was crazy. Most people would say silence had no sound to keep out. They were wrong.

Wendy knew that silence was the worst sound in all the world.

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner. So what do you think, this is my first Outsiders fanfic, and the first fic I've written that going to be based on a developing romance. So that's new ground. Johnny and a few of the other boys in the gang will be make their first appearance in the next chapter.


	2. The Rodeo

Jenny and Guest: Hey, no I'm not WITS. I read her a lot when I was little, and my writing style took after her own a bit...the way I think a lot of potential writers styles take after those they read, so thank you for the compliment. :D You can see this that style of first chapter with the my YoungJustice Story Falling Stars. The idea was inspired what I remembered from that story...it was really good -read it religiously in High School...Lordy that was years ago. But it won't be just like it...it can't be since we don't know how it ended. It was so sad when I looked for the story one year and saw it deleted. So inspired by, not copied. Wendy is purposely a very different charater than Audrey was...Wendy is sadder, more mature, and thoughtful than Audrey was in the beginning I think. After all, she is a older sibling in a family that lost their mother. She kinda has a Soda role.

HappierThanMost: Hello HappierThanMost. I'm a big fan of your work so I was blow away to see your review. Thank you for your kind review, it was so thoughtful. Yes Wendy lost of her mother is a big part of her character. I figured that in order relate to Johnny and the other boys, Wendy would have to understand lost and pain, and that kind of pain open her mind a little in regards to people.

Guest: Here is that next Chapter! Hope you like it.

Lovetoread75: Johnny is my favorite as well. :D

Alaster Boneman: The Outsiders is my favorite book form 1965. It's really great. The movie too. And if a a family moves to a place where friends are, old friends who helped you move they then yeah, they help with your stuff.

* * *

Chapter II

* * *

S*S

Even in the dying days of August, when the whole world was painted in rustling gold as evening crept into Tulsa, the air remain hot and oppressive thick. Oh, signs of Autumn were teased at them in the wind, but Mother Nature seem to be flirting with Father Time, holding off Fall just a little bit longer for a one last blast of fun.

Naturally, Wendy and her family had heard of the Rodeo...and the twins had spent many fun days in the years-past riding brooms and broken branches, pretending like any pairs of red-blooded little boys that they were Cowboys (well, after they got done being Pirates, Indians, Soldiers, and Circus Ringmasters.) So when Mr. Valance invited the Allen siblings to come see genuine cowboys in action...well, the twins' eyes had nearly left their sockets and rolled along the floor, replaced there by fireworks. They were out the door and running for the car like Speedy Gonzales across the Mexican boarder, before Dad had even agreed to let them go.

Of course, he did, on the condition that Connie drove them, and the twins minded their sisters and Mr. Valance as they would him. In all her life Wendy had never seen the boys so obligating. They really, _really_ wanted to go, she mused, peering at Sam and Eric's refection in the review mirror, as they vibrated with delight in the backseat. Like a pair of maracas. She couldn't remember the last time they had smiled so widely.

And she actually was smiling a bit like a kid herself, from the moment the side door open and the smells of hay, popcorn, and cotton candy wafted through the air. Course, It didn't last long as she was forced to grab hold of the boys' arms as they whooped and tried to race away.

"Hey! Hold it! You heard Dad, you have to stay with me and Con," she said, while she struggled to hold them.

"Ah, come on Wendy-" Sam whined, as he and Eric both keep tugging against her hands- albeit half-halfheartedly.

"Do you want to get lost here? We'd never find you!"

And Lord know that was the truth -People of all ages seemed to have come from all over Tulsa to take part or watch the Rodeo events. Good glory, it seems that very grounds were shaking under their feet. And she was suppose to let two ten year olds run loose here? Not likely.

Eventually the boys came around to seeing it her way...mostly because Wendy refused to move until they had cried "Uncle" on the subject and they were dying to go. Under the condition that they could go beyond visual sight of the girls or each other, they headed for the show.

Connie was smirking with a lifted eyebrow, and Wendy scowled up at her.

"You could've helped a little you know."

Connie clucked her tongue, pretending to consider that.

"I could..." she drawled out, tossing her curls over her shoulder carelessly. "But you so much better at it than me. And its too much fun to watch."

"Glad I could entertain," Wendy muttered, before smoothing out her blue flannel blouse and dropping the matter. She refused to let it ruin her day. And what a day it was. The sun was out, and a breeze was picking up. Wendy had never seen so many horses in her life; beautiful, powerful creatures. Most of which were twice as tall as she was. Glory, and the skill of their riders, not to mention their nerve, to even get on those beasts, was simply unbelievable.

Sitting up in the stands with a hot-dog in hand, Connie's cool eyes suddenly lit with interest. "Wendy, isn't that-"

But the announcer beat her to it.

 _"Alright folks, next up on the barrel racing, here's our own Tulsa native Sherri Valance!"_

Wendy nearly drooped her coke. Cherry?! For a moment, she thought they hadn't heard right...Cherry, who was immaculate with her nail polish, her clothes, her hair...a Rodeo star?

But there was no mistaking that ponytail of flaming hair, flying behind her friend as Cherry rode her mount at a brilliant pace round her barrels. The twins eyes were like moons.

"Wendy, your friend's a cowgirl?!" Eric exclaimed in awe as he and his twin watch the redhead go, go, _go._

"...Apparently," was all she could think to say. After all, the evidence was right before them. And she watched with unabashed fascination. For the first time in all the time Wendy had know her, Cherry's face was utterly free of any masks or hiding. Instead their was a fast joy, furious glee, and total concentration. The smaller girl was half surprised the horse's hooves weren't trailing fire.

* * *

S*S

As if that wasn't enough of a shock -or reason to have a heart attack- the saddle bronc followed after barrel racing. If Wendy ever had any remaining questions about the sanity of these people, it was laid to rest then and there, six feet under, and stone cold in its grave. Doubly so, when Sam and Eric's eyes glowed like Fourth of July sparklers; gleeful as they watch grown-folks with the sense of billy goats willing mount angry horses, that then tried to buck them off as soon as the gate was open. Apparently, staying on for all of eight or more seconds was considered an accomplishment.

Specially of you didn't brake an arm or crack your head open. Good _Lord._

So naturally her brothers loved it.

 _Of course they do,_ Wendy thought wearily.

"That's what I'm gonna do when I get big," Sam declared, with a regal nod. "I bet I could go a whole two minutes!"

"I could go more than that," Eric countered immediately. Sam stuck out his tongue.

"Could not!"

"Could too!"

"Could _not!_ "

"Over my dead body," Wendy grumbled, as another unlucky fellow went flying off into the dirt. Connie coughed, though her lips tugged suspiciously upward.

"You know, I'm having more fun than I thought I would," she commented casually.

Wendy huffed, and crossed her arms tightly. "That's because _you_ like others people's misery."

Connie shrugged, but didn't deny it. "Hey, that they way of the world, hon. if it happens to you its a Tragedy. If it happens to someone else, its Comedy."

Wendy shook her head. What a way to view the world. Sometimes she wondered at her sister.

* * *

S*S

Despite Connie Allen's philosophy, even she look shaken by what happened near the end of saddle bronc. Though at first, it started out with her typical scorn when the next rider's names was announced over the loud speaker. To be fair, Wendy was taken back as well.

 _"Back for his second year on the bronc, here's our own Sodapop Curtis!"_

Connie laughed, a short and harsh sound that took time to get use to. " _Sodapop?_ That can't seriously be his name, can it?"

Wendy was trying to figure that out as well. "Well...Cherry's real name was what was called when it was her turn...so I suppose so."

Connie shook her head. "His parents must be a pair of circus freaks to name a kid that. You think he has a sister named Popcorn and a brother named Camel?"

"I think it's sounds neat," Sam piped up. "I'd wouldn't mind being named Sodapop. Sounds like fun."

"You say that, but that kid probably had a tough time on the playground," Connie replied.

The gate hadn't open yet, and the black-brown steed looked ready to burst forth like a Headless horseman of Sleepy Hollow. Wendy involuntarily clenched her seat. Maybe it was just her imagination. But that horse just seemed nastier than previous one. Maybe just a bit mad even, if a horse could be mad. Sodapop Curtis didn't seem to mind though -no...he was grinning as his climbed aboard. Even looking up and waving at the crowd, tripping his hat to them, revealing wheat-gold, slick back hair.

Connie leaned forward in her seat, fingers trailing along the collar of her shirt, the green of her eyes changing from mocking to appraising. "He's a doll, don't you think Wen? Could give James Dean a run for his money."

Wendy scrunched up her nose at her. "I thought he was just a Circus freak, Con?'"

"He is," her sister confirmed. But her eyes gleamed. "But he's a _cute_ circus freak."

Wendy sighed. "Well let me know when the wedding is, alright?"

"Ha, ha."

"There he goes!" Sam exclaimed as the gate swung open. " _Holy-_ "

Holy was right. Heart in her throat, the scene before them reminded Wendy of the religious painting she would see in church -the ones of golden hair Archangel Michael fighting the dark, brandy color devil. And that horse was possessed. That was all there was to explain it, as it as it screamed and bucked, eyes rolling wildly. The whole thing lasted roughly...ten seconds. Maybe. But it seemed longer. And Sodapop Curtis look like he was having the time of his life the entire time. At one point, he held both his hands in the air.

Yep, he may be a doll, but that one was crazy. Certified crazy. _Jesus, Mary, and Joseph...  
_

Though, crazy didn't seem to help him any when that horse finally manage to buck him a foot in the air, making a shout rise up from the audience, before coming down hard on his side. Immediately, he scrambled out of the equally crazy beast. But there seem to be something off with his ankle as he tried to get to his feet. But he managed to make it to the fence, where two men helped him over.

He hadn't stopped grinning the entire time, and paused to rise his hat to the crowd one more time before turning on his way. The twins were on their feet, performing a mini war dance in celebration.

Wendy dropped her head into her hand. On second thought, maybe _all_ boys could be certified crazy. Maybe it was in the blood.

One thing was for certain, if she ever came to the Rodeo again, she be skipping the saddle bronc.

* * *

S*S

This belief was tripled when the announcement came that it was time for _bareback_ bronc. What little blood was left in her face was gone after that, and she was pretty sure her stomach had just high-five her tonsils. She stood up.

"I 'm going to get another coke," she muttered. She had to out of there. "Anybody want something?"

"Some more popcorn, Wen," Sam answered. Eric nodded besides him. Connie shook her head. "I'm good...take care."

"Thanks," Wendy answered, before she half walked, half stumbled, down the stands, mercifully before the first crazy rider got on the saddle-less horse.

Getting away from all the people and the cheering went a long way to helping her heart beat slow, and her vision to stop spinning. And she took the opportunity to just walk along, taking in less exciting things to see...the ones that weren't life-threatening. It was very nice, the green gold grass rustling softly between stands of vendors offering merchandise. Some of them were very nice pieces. Very nice. And there was everything from artwork to jewelry. Wendy's Dad had given her ten dollars to spend on herself and her siblings, more than enough to get a little something for herself along with the snacks.

Immediately her eyes were drawn a booth run a very pretty lady, with braided wheat blond hair. What was apparently her son was inside, a boy with slick back reddish hair and a large drawing pad, currently finishing a portrait of another lady. One who Wendy recognized as Mrs. Sheldon -Bob's mother. There was another boy as well, a darker one in a blue jeans jacket half hidden in the shadows, like he was waiting for something. Or hiding.

"There you go Ma'am," the boy said politely as he finished the last touches with color pencils. Ripping it free from its siblings, he handed it over to the customer, who took it promptly and spent a good long moment gazing at it.

"Well, I can't believe it-"

The boy squirmed in the uncomfortable way Wendy knew very well, it was the same way she shuffled whenever she let someone read her stories. "Is somethin' the matter Ma'am?"

Mrs. Sheldon allowed the moment to drag out a little longer before she burst into a wide grin. "Hardly hon, this is _wonderful."_

And it really was. Somehow, the boy had captured the shifting colors of Mrs. Sheldon's lively hazel gaze, the warm pink of her cheek. "You have a gift young man. A regular Michelangelo."

By this time, the boy's ears had turned nearly as red as his hair, but his mother beamed proudly behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders.

"Yes, Ponyboy always been artistically gifted. We're very proud of him-"

She said some more things after that, Wendy was to stuck on the name to hear them... _Ponyboy?_

 _Sodapop?_

Cherry. Was giving out strange names a habit in the southwest, or just in Tulsa? Honestly, she was starting to feel like she was in a Grimm fairy tale. _Who knows, maybe next I'll meet a pair of sisters called Snow White and Rose Red._

This was too interesting to ignore. Before she knew it, Wendy was making her way over to the booth, right after Mrs. Sheldon departed with a few more kind words of praise.

"Hello there," the lady greeted her, smiling brightly as Wendy stood before her humble wooden table. This booth wasn't the most fancy of stands, but it had a homey feeling to it that Wendy liked at once. "Would you like your portrait drawn up? Only fifty cents."

Wendy bit her lip, considering...the offer was tempting, but she couldn't stay way from Connie and boys too long. God knows Con wouldn't really watch the twins. "I'm not sure Ma'am -just how long would it take?"

The lady open her mouth to reply, but her son beat her to it.

"Not long -ten minutes...twenty minutes tops," he told her with an air of having it down to a science. A little arrogant, but not aware of it. But his eyes were guileless. He wasn't much older than the twins...twelve years old, maybe.

Making her choice, Wendy was just about to reach for her pocket when the blond lady sudden peered over the top of Wendy's dark head...and blanched.

"What happen!?" she exclaimed, darting around the table to a collation of approaching figures. Ponyboy and the blue jean boy looked up at the alarmed in her voice, and quickly followed her as Sodapop Curtis was half pulled, half carried towards them by the two men that had pulled him from the arena, who looked so much alike, Wendy assumed them to be brothers.

"Hey Mom," Soda smiled at her...though it looked more like a grimace of pain. He was very pale. "I'm fine-"

"The medic thinks he pulled a ligament, Molly -" one of the brothers told the lady. "We've got to get him to the hospital."

Molly nodded quickly, grey-green eyes flashing. "Right, right...Darry give me the keys. I'll get the car."

As the younger brother fished around his own pocket, Molly stepped closer to her son, running her fingers through the dark gold hair they shared with each other. Back by the booth, leaning against it, Wendy' body twitched, as some green, vaporous sensation crawled it way up her spine and over her skin, boiling in her stomach to the point where she had to look...anywhere else. Just anywhere.

Eyes flying away, they swept the tops of the few trees available, the patches of grass...a pair of worn, battered sneakers, apparently held together by mud at the seams. Curiosity tugged at her attention, distracting her from the places her thoughts could not go. Not today. So she followed those sneakers as they nervously stood a few steps away from the rest of the group. With them...but not fully belonging to them.

Wendy blinked, her head tilting, fascinated. Without thinking, she lifted her head see just who those sad, lonely looking shoes belonged too. The owner turned out to be that thin lackey shadow in the blue jean jacket. The other boy at the Curtis booth. He was maybe half a head taller than her, thin as a whipcord, but also strangely strong looking in his tenseness, his hands shoved nervously into his own pockets. After a moment, he stiffen suddenly, and turned his own head, like he had sense her gaze, bringing black eyes to meet her own.

Alarmed, and a bit embaressed, Wendy redden and looked away again, so fast that she didn't notice the blue jean shadow do likewise, with simular wariness.

When she looked up again, the Curtis family group was gone.

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner. So I've never been to a Rodeo, how was it. Did it feel real enough. And obciously, this was the first look at some of the boys, how was that.


	3. Flash Allen

Signe: Amazing you say? Thanks, I'm flattered!

Lovetoread75: Charater devoplment is a big thing this chapter, hope yo like it!

Happier than most: Thank yo very much, I hope you enjoy this chapter as well.

Emolichi1: Will do!

* * *

Chapter III

* * *

S*S

With nothing else to do, Wendy found herself trudging back over trampled, hay covered ground, back to the stands, head down and fingers fiddling with themselves, feeling like a solider headed back to the front. She only stopped when she remembered her brothers' request for popcorn, and obediently found herself standing in line at the nearest vender. Sam and Eric had been good today after all, and kept their antics well below the limit that lead to cardiac arrest. They deserved the treat.

So she was content wait in the molasses moving line, rocking back and forth on her heels a bit, until it came her time to step under the white canvas tent and face the thunderous mountain of a cashier. Though his eyes were like were mellow as butter he poured over the popcorn bags.

"Hello there little Darlin'," he drawled out easily to her, differently than he had spoken to the two men who had stood before Wendy. With them he had been polite, but crisp. Now he leaned forward a bit, arms dripped in tattoos of dancing Spanish ladies and swaying palm trees resting on the counter as grinning gold teeth flashed in the light. "What will you have?"

"Two bags of popcorn, please," she requested, offering the proper mount of money. "Extra butter."

"Coming right up," he nodded. With a gleam of showmanship in his gaze, the man swirled the mug of butter so it whipped over it's target like liquored amber, making a star like pattern before it sunk between the spaces.

"It is _fineto_ ," he proclaimed, pressing three of his fingers together to bless the air with a kiss. Delighted, Wendy giggled, and his eyes glinted, pleased. He passed the bags over with air of dignity.

"Nice to know someone can appreciate art," he praised. "Enjoy hon."

Feeling lighter, she hugged the bags to her chest, and began to thank him when a eruption of shouts and accusations came from behind her. Startled good, Wendy and the cashier turned their heads at the same time, Wendy's eyes widening while the cashier's narrowed into cat like slits, his entire body straightening. The line was shattering, giving the players a stage for their show. A gaggle of boys Wendy's age stood nose to nose. The were nearly the same height, but that was about the only think they had in common. Elsewise, there was a sharp divide between them, palpable in the air. One side looked like the kind of kids Wendy had hung out with all summer; nicely clothed, neat hair, and a air of having been taken care of all their life.

The other side...was a bit different. They looked like Lost Boys, ready to fight both the Pirates and the Indians, or anything else that threatened them. Their hair was shinny, slicked back with a dangerous feel to the way it sharped their faces. Their forms clothed in leather that made lanky figures into harder, rougher forms. Both sides were shouting, accusing the other of cutting in line.

"Back of the line Greaser," one of the well dressed kids sneered, to the agreement of his crowd. "Only paying customers up front."

"Then your daddy ought to be up front," the lead leather wearer returned, eyes glowing, glowering. "He's the one paying for all his baby boy's needs, right Soc?"

That made the other boy turn all kinds of interesting shades of red, before returning to an intense coldness. "Least I know for sure who my daddy _is_ Shepard."

Things went down hill after that, resulting in all seven boys in a rolling brawl. The crowd that had gathered in morbid curiosity scrambled out of the way, mothers and their kids making the quickest escape, sheathered by male family members.

Wendy would've just stood there, her mouth open in a perfect "O", if the cashier's hand didn't settled on her shoulder, giving her a gentle shake out of her stupor.

"Get going hon, this is get a lot worse 'fore it gets better," he warned her as he started making his way around the counter, his gentle manner molding into that of a ringmaster working with lions. "HEY! BREAK IT UP!"

Jumping, Wendy didn't hang around to see of any of the combatants would obey the command. Hugging her merchandise to her, she turn tail and scadattled, the boy's insults to each other echoing after her steps.

* * *

S*S

And she didn't stop until she had nearly ran clean passed her siblings, not recognizing them until they called out to her, halting her feet.

"Where were you off to?" Connie asked, eyebrow arched. "Rate you were going, you were bound to hit the speed limit."

Lungs sore from her sprint, Wendy had to wait a moment before she could even wheezy out an answer. And even then she had to moderate it, for the boys' shake, even as she handed them their popcorn.

"I was..."

"Hey Allens!" a cheerful voiced saved her from answering, in the voice of Marica. Looking up, all four of the siblings watched as the perky girl zipped her over to them, ranchers hat resting daintily on her head.

"Which Allen?" Connie called back.

"Well, each of y'all are so fine looking today, I wouldn't know which to pick for an apple Allen pie," Marcia beamed, and to Wendy's amusement, her brothers actually blushed, looking down with the tips of Sam's ears turning red and Eric drawing in the dirt with his shoe. "Did ya see Cherry in the barrel race?"

"We did," Wendy confirmed. "Surprised the heck out of us though. She's _really_ good. Shame she didn't win anything."

Marica shrugged. "Well theirs's always next year am I right? I'm headed to meet her. Wanta come?"

"Sure."

The walk back to the stands passed with the silence munching of Sam and Eric's popcorn, which the girls pillaged without mercy, much to their horror.

"Hey, these are ours!" they protested, attempting to shield it with their hands.

"Than you should have paid for it," Connie told them drily, after snagging another handful.

"And you boys wouldn't really begrudge a lady now would ya?" Marica insisted, holding a hand to her fluttering heart, though her eye held a mischievous gleam. They blushed again, but Sam stood his ground, chin lifted defiantly.

"Maybe not a lady, but all I see here are sisters."

* * *

S*S

"Who may just leave you here if you don't watch it," Connie warned idly, tossing her curls. This earned a bark of male laughter from up ahead, calling their attention as a tall figured rose to meet them.

"What, Connie Allen leaving someone out in the cold? Say it ain't so Joe!" Randy teased as he lead them to Cherry, Bob, and the rest of the gang as they where they were lounging on a couple of barrels.

"What's up little mans?" he greeted the twins, smirking with amusement as they arched backwards to take in his massive height.

"You are," Eric said honest, shielding his eyes in the lowering sun.

Bob snorted. "Kid's got you their Ran."

Randy rolled his eyes. "Whatever Bob." But his lips twitched in amusement.

Jack Pescare took it upon himself to rise from his laze perch on a barrel and make his way over to Wendy's space.

"Hey Wen," he greeted lightly. "Did you enjoy the rodeo?"

She shrugged up one shoulder, arms rising to loosely fold over her chest as he stepped a few pace's closer than she was comfortable with, considering that her younger siblings were present. She frowned. Actually...than she was comfortable with it period. She scooted sidewise a bit, sitting on the edge of a fence rail to try a have some space of her own. But the subtle rebuke was lost in translation as Jack merely crossed the space with her, leaning against the fence in such a fashion that she had to crane her head back to look at him as he smiled down at her.

She could feel her face heating up some, and against her will her eyes flittered to the boys. Sam and Eric were stupefied, heads titled like they were watching the interaction of a strange pair of animals in a zoo. Which was better than Connie, who only smirked, before immediately engaging in conversation with Lilian and Peggy regarding the latest fashion for the return to school. Cherry and Marcia were watching though, one eye on her while the other conversed with their boyfriends. That helped steady her.

"Yeah, I enjoyed it," she answered him with a brief nod, hoping that would be the end of it.

But it wasn't. That grin only grew wider and his hand reached out to tug at her hair.

"I rode bronc saddle," he boasted, and she supposed that explained his somewhat dusty attire. "Did you see me? I was the best in the ring-"

"No you weren't," Sam interrupted, and just like that, he was suddenly in the running for best brother of the year, in Wendy's eyes. "Sodapop Curtis was the best!"

Eric nodded eagerly, stepping forward to stand besides his twin. "Yeah, did you see him?! His horse was _wild!_ "

A gleeful laugh burst out of Randy and Bob, the older boys nearly doubled over. "Ah man, you hear that Jack? The kids think that a _Greaser_ the better rider."

Wendy squinted her eyes before looking over at Connie, who was doing a good job as masking her own confusion. _Greaser._ That word had popped up a lot during the summer, with such casual dismissal and contempt that the Allen girls had figured it was some sort of southern slang for some unwanted varmint. Like a racoon or a coyote. Or rats. Wendy had never considered the thought that it was a term for _people._

Her wrist begun to itch.

* * *

S*S

Sam merely looked annoyed, and whole lot confused. "Well he was!"

Eric nodded fiercely beside him.

Jack wasn't grinning anymore, and turned scowling eyes from the boys to Wendy to the boys, back to Wendy again. His fingers returned to her hair, ignoring the twitch her head gave from the shock of contact.

"You know Wen, you should teach your brothers to be careful about who they look up too. You don't want them picking up bad habits."

Incredulous, Wendy reach up and gave his hand a firm eviction from her hair. "If you mean saddle bronc, rest assure I don't approve. But you just said you do it too. What habits are you talking about?"

Jack's eyebrows rose up, like _she_ was one talking nonsense. And he wasn't the only one. Suddenly, everyone in their little group had their eyes on her. Wendy blinked, and her stomach dropped to somewhere around her feet.

"Come on Wen, you really want your kid brothers following after _Greasers_?"

"I think that would depend on one thing," Connie drawled out, eyelids dropped in an impressive show of boredom. "What is a Greaser everyone's so fascinated with?"

Lilian whipped her head around to the other girl. "Are you _joking?"_

Connie matched her you're-so-stupid-stare look for look. "It's not like we've lived here that long."

"Greaser's are _hood_ s," Lilian sniffed, nosed in the air, seeming to think that was sufficed information.

"Delinquents," Bob added, like it was a fact. Like two plus two. That itch was getting worse.

Sam goggled, gaze whipping around from person to person. "You mean like bad guys? _Criminals?_ "

"Of course not," Wendy interjected hurriedly. "If they were criminals, they would've have been allowed to compete."

Jack snorted. "They shouldn't be allowed to compete anyways. Cheating trash from the east side. Hell, they should even be allowed to come at all! All they do is get drunk and start fights."

" _And_ win saddle bronc contrasts," Connie observed softly, "And look darn good doing it."

Lilian took the bait. "You can't mean you _liked_ the Greaser!?"

Con lifted that eyebrow. "Like is too strong a word. I don't know him. But I sure like looking at him."

"Sodapop Curtis _is_ good looking," Cherry mediated, ignoring the fiery look Bob sent her, in favor of sending one of her own to Lilian. "And he's polite enough in school for _you_ to talk to Lil."

That made Lilian's face flame red, but she wasn't done.

"But he's the exception. Most of the Greasers are real trouble for us Soc's Wendy. We could tell you stories that would make your hair curl". _..not that you needed it,_ she added silently with her gaze. But Wendy had a more important question.

"What's a Soash?"

Eyebrows were raised again, from the same parties. Jack let out a low whistle.

"Lordy, you're a babe in the wood, aren't ya?" he said, reaching up a hand again.

"She doesn't like that," Sam snapped. "Would you stop it?"

It was only after it had left his mouth that Sam seemed to remember that he was talking to someone eight years his senior, and twice his head height; and he faltered a bit as Jack scowled at him, swallowing what must have been a suddenly dry throat. He nearly stepped back when Eric tossed an arm around his shoulders. The silent reminder than is his twin was in his corner steady Sam enough to hold his ground, as best a ten year old could. Nervous and fidgeting, but still.

Wendy would have to remember to ask Dad to raise their allowance.

Without acknowledgement, Jack dropped his hand and poindtly moved back to his own barrel. Apparently the twins were too small to fried. Though Wendy thought she saw a spasm in his leg like it was aching to give her little brothers a good kick.

Whatever charitable thought she might've had towards him when the way of the dodo bird by that point. She doubted they'd return.

"Well, we're Soashes, Wendy," Cherry said, waving her hand around to the group at large, looking as though she really wished they weren't having this conversation.

Con nodded. "Alright, but what does it _mean_ is what she's asking."

"It means that all of us behave in socially acceptable ways...when we want to that is."

Oh. Soc, not Soash.

"What it means is we have futures, and they don't, outside of the penitentiary," Jack snipped slightly, face still dark and sore at having a ten year old stand up to him. Wendy thought about Sodapop Curtis and the boundless amount courage he's shown on that hell-beast. She thought about Ponyboy Curtis in his booth with his pencils and his guileless eyes.

She thought of the blue jean shadow who couldn't even hold her gaze. She wasn't omnipotent, but she was fairly certain whatever the future held for them, it wasn't the jailhouse.

Then she thought of the fight in the popcorn line. And she found herself wondering how it had ended. But now probably wasn't the time to bring that up. _Any_ of it.

* * *

S*S

The Allens left soon afterwards, and the car ride home was unusually quiet. Sam insured that didn't last long when the reach the house, feeling it safe to vent his feelings since Dad was out with Mr. Valance.

"Holy moly guys, your friends are real jerks," he proclaimed as he and Eric climbed into the tall chairs of the island courter like a kings holding court. Or lawyers.

But Connie was ready with the defense, as she got a coke for herself from the refrigerator, popping the top dramatically as Wendy moved to make sandwiches for them. "Really? I'm surprised you think that...didn't look like you minded Marcia none."

Sam scowled, even as his and Eric's cheeks flared up. "You know what I mean! Cherry and Marica are _nice-"_

Eric nodded. "Yeah and their nice to _you_ -"

"-but the others...their _mean_. And I don't think they care."

"Why would you be with people that don't like you?"

Wendy winced as she smoothed peanut butter and jelly on a second piece of bread. "It's not that they don't like us boys...but really, Cherry and Marcia our are real friends. The others we just have to be around."

Sam and Eric looked like they were mulling that over as she put the plates of sandwiches before them.

"That's dumb," Sam proclaimed, nodding like he was Elijah calling down fire. Though the image was ruined when he took a bite, and smudge jelly on his face.

"That's being a teenager," Connie informed then drily.

Sam made a face. "Then I don't wanta be a teenager. I want to like people cause I like them...or cause their the best. Sodapop Curtis was the best at what he did, wasn't he?"

"Looked that way," Wendy offered softly, running her hand through his hair.

"And he was the best cause he was the best...even if he had stripes like a zebra?*"

Wendy made a face at the funny image. "He was the best cause he did the best he could with what he had."

Than and he was crazy. But Sam and Eric nodded, looking satisfied. Then their faces furrowed with another matter.

"Do you have to be around that Jack guy Wendy?" Eric asked. "He's the meanest...like the bad guy that Flash has to fight cause he won't leave Iris alone, even when she asks."*

"And I though he was gonna pound me," Sam added.

There was something comically right about that comparison, and Wendy sighed as she sat down across from her family and looked the boys in the eyes.

"First thing: I'd _never_ let him hit you. Either of you. Second thing...he's part of group. If I want to stay with them, I'll have to be around them. I don't want to be friendless going back into school."

"So find new friends," Sam said, like you could pick them up at the store. Life was so much easier when you were ten.

Connie snorted, fingers swirling her coke like a witch brew, like that could turn back time.

"It's not that easy boys," Wendy told them gently. "But don't worry about until your time comes, okay?"

She nudged them now, playful. "Thirdly...thanks for being my heroes today Flash Allen."

As expected that made her brothers flush and puff up all at once, pleased crocked smiles creeping up on small faces.

"Your welcome, Wendy," Sam said, trying to make his voice deeper, like all the hero serials they loved. She could almost see the caps flowing dramatically out behind them in a beam of light.

* * *

Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought ad I'll update sooner. I tried to show the Allen kids personalities more as they confronted the greaser/soc conflict. How'd it go?

*1 I don't care if he's black, white or has stripes like a zebra, I'm the manager and I say he plays ~ Leo Durocher over the matter of Jackie Robinson.

*2 Iris Allen is the wife of Barry Allen in Dc comics. Amazing how kids loved those characters all they back then. Like American Mythology


	4. The Blue Jean Shadow

Guest 1: I'm glad you think so and hope you like what you read here!

Guest2: Well, here is that update!

Guest3: Well here is some pretty

Kola:yes, I thought it fit little boys in the 60s to love comics

Signe: Amazing? Thank you!

* * *

Chapter IV

* * *

S*S

The rest of summer dwindled far to soon for Wendy's likening, time speed away in last minute rushing for new school clothes, notebooks, and writing supplies. All these things having utterly slipped the Allens' minds in their need to cling to August's fading shades of green and gold. The consequences were that the girls found themselves rushing about the house, trying to make everything ready for the first day back at school in the morning.

Such a task was daunting enough as it were. But the prospect of an entirely new body of students to meet and greet made it doubly so, a body of students who had known each other -or at least known of each other- all their lives. First impressions were something that allowed no do-overs, no second chances.

Wendy and Connie took that seriously. Which was why they were in the middle of Wendy's larger room, the place looking like a bronc saddle show had torn up the place. Freshly brought clothes lay on the vanity chair, window-seat, and were draped across the younger girl bed's with the seriousness of the affair. By unspoken agreement, the Allen sisters acknowledge how one dressed would effect how the other would be seen, so they didn't bother pretending not to care as they repeatedly vetoed each other's fashion sense.

Or lack of it as it were.

"Oh no. _No_. Not the plaid dress Wendy," Connie commanded firmly, jerking the clothing out of her sister's hands and dropping it as if it had burned her. "You'd look like you just come out of the confession box."

"And if you wear those new heels, you'll look like your on your way to the confession box," Wendy retorted back, hands on her hips. "Or the hospital, if you trip on the stairs and break your neck."

Connie pursed her lips, considering, before she nodded and tossed the scandalous looking things to the floor, where they clanged together like prison manacles. Wendy flinched. Why any girl wore those torture devices was beyond her. "Fair point. Heels should be for steady ground. What do you think about this skirt?"

She held it up, and Wendy tilted her head at the smiling poodle carefully stitched into it's front...looking far to happy for Con's vinegar and ice personality. Plus, Virgin Mary blue wasn't really her color. Nothing about Connie was maternal in the slightest.

"How 'bout this," she tactfully suggested instead, offering up an knee-length, ivy green button dress that would flatter her top, while the small V-shape at the collarbone was sharp enough to hint at what was hidden inside.

She'd chosen her mark well, as Connie's eyes lit up with cool interest as she took the offering and held it against her form.

"I have a dark pair of shoes that would go great with this," she murmured softly, which was the closest thing to _thank you_ as Wendy ever got in Connie-speech. "I supposed you'd want the poodle skirt then?"

Nose crinkling, Wendy shook her head. "No...it's too sweet for me."

That got her a raised eyebrow. "Since when? Had to break it to you Wen, but your sweet enough to give people cavities. It's kinda disgusting."

"I just don't want to wear the poodle. Okay?"

That eyebrow arched higher. But Connie covered any surprise with a toss of her curls. "Suit yourself...how about that dark blue skirt with the thin white blouse? The one with the quarter sleeves?"

Wendy fished them out from the mess and held the two articles up But together, they wouldn't look too different from Connie's dress, right down to the little bit of V-neck. Her heart jump a bit. Usually Connie never let her match her style. "These ones?"

 _"Yep_ ," Connie popped, smirking. "It just screams _love me, I'm the goody two-shoes teacher's pet._ _I read the textbooks for fun in my spare time."_

Wendy felt her face get hot. "Just the history and English ones. They can be interesting you know..."

Connie snorted, before inelegantly flopping on the bed with a knee bent, expression dull. "Wen, you have _got_ to get a boyfriend."

Wendy tried to scowl at her, she really did. Cause really, until a year ago, Connie's opinion hadn't meant two cents...but good Lord, why did Connie's _your-so-pathetic-glance_ have to match Mama's patented _I'm-disappointed-in-you_ look? With all the high expectations and none of the encouragement. How was _that_ fair? Like always, Wendy ended up looking away, lowering her gaze while her hands sought comfort in the process of folding all those lonely, unselected clothes, bringing some neatness back to the space.

Also, they'd be easier to put away then. Just tucked away and forgotten. Until they were useful that is. Only to just get put away again after that. Again and again.

She sucked in a shaky breath, startled to find it thick with unshed tears. Blinking, she swallowed them back. Connie didn't noticed, she had turned on the bed, and was flipping though a Twiggy magazine, running a finger over different styles of mascara. Wendy bit back a sigh. Of course.

Getting Sam and Eric ready wasn't nearly as emotional. She almost envied them, being boys and twins, all they had to do was make sure they remembered to put their shirts on the right way.

And they were together -sure, they were nervous about starting a new school as anybody was, but they already had a friend walking in besides them, bonded and connected in a way the Allen sisters would never be...Wendy would count herself lucky if Connie spared her a glance in the hallway. Again, a year before, that was just fine and dandy by her. She and Connie were different people. With different lives and interests.

She just thought...well, at first Wendy had thought that things might be different, when Mama got worse. Thought Connie might want to draw closer, like she and the boys had. That they could be friends, allies, safe harbors in a rapidly shaky world.

But it wasn't to be. Connie made it abundantly clear that she wanted no support, no comfort. And had absolutely none to offer either.

Wendy just had to live with that.

* * *

S*S

The next morning was a blur of rushing through the house, with the typical hassles of four kids tripping over themselves to remember the things they might've forgotten.

"Why do we have to get up with you anyways?" Sam whined as Wendy yanked a comb through his hair, having already finished with Eric (who was ruefully massaging his scalp). "Our school doesn't start for another hour!"

"Because, I want to make sure your ready before I go," Wendy huffed back. "Do you have the lunches I packed?"

"In my hand, Wendy," Sam groaned. "You just put it there."

Oh...right. "And you'll wait on the step until the bus comes?"

" _Yes Wendy_..." both of the boys chorused together, like a broken record.

"I think you mentioned that, didn't she Eric?"

"I think so Sam."

"Just once-"

"Or twice-"

"A minute-"

 _"All_ summer-"

"Oh, enough, both of you," Wendy snipped, giving their heads a light shove to silence their sniggers.

Eric fiddled with strap of his book bag. "How come Dad couldn't take us?"

Wendy tried not to wince. "He's already at work. I told you Eric."

Dad had taken the early hours at his new practice without running it by her first, apparently trusting in Wendy's abilities to get her siblings up and moving while he caught up on the work he'd missed. _You can handle it can't you Wen?_

Her answering smile had felt like through was glass in it, cracked and breaking. _Of course Daddy._

Her reward was a proud kiss to the top of her head. _That's my best girl._

The boys didn't need to know that.

The sudden honking of a horn saved her from any further questions, making them all look up. Striving towards the window, Connie peered through the blinds and hummed. "Bob and Cherry are here Wen. Gotta go."

Wendy nodded in absent agreement as they made their way out the door. Though Connie ended up having to take her sister by the wrist to the blue mustang when Wendy turned back to make sure the boys were sitting obediently on the step. Too obediently.

"You stay there until the bus come, you hear?"

"Yes Wendy!" they called back.

* * *

S*S

Will Rogers High School was a massive building of imposing brick, filled with hundreds of yammering kids that scurried about like a hill of ants or a swarm of bees. Wendy blinked as she slide free from her seat and out into the bright sunlight, squinting her eyes.

Cherry came up besides her with Connie while Bob looked over to where some guys in letter-men jackets were calling him over.

"You girls okay to walk in?" he asked them, though they way he asked struck Wendy as odd. It sounded more like a guard worried about deserting his duty than a boyfriend just trying to be sweet. It was probably only a hundred yards to the front doors. What on earth could happen?

Cherry however, lit up, and lifted herself on her toes to peck Bob's cheek. "Yeah we'll be fine. Doubt anything will happen on the first day. See you at lunch?

"Always," Bob grinned, before giving a lazy salute and santurering of like a tiger, trim and sleek. Wendy tilted her head, and tucked a stray raven lock behind on ear. She could see why Cherry liked him a bit...Bob always had the graceful power of command in his step, a gleam in his eye.

Still to tall for her however.

"Well come on, I'll show ya to the main office," Cherry told the sisters brightly, hustling them along. "You can pick up ya schedules there. Hope to have you in some of my classes."

Though technically, that last comment was addressed to both of them, her green eyes found Wendy's while she said it, and Wendy could see why.

Beside them, Connie's mouth had curved into a enigmatic smile of a thousand meanings, her steps gaining confidence as her hips began to sway ever so slightly under her tiny black belt. Head up, shoulders back, the older Allen girl strolled into the school like she was the Queen, Aphrodite out of the sea, and Cherry and Wendy her retinue.

Wendy watched with pity as a few poor boys actually stopped what they were doing to watch her sister waltz by, one even walking clean into a wall. They had no idea that Con, while not _wholly_ bad, was merciless when it came to her admirers, wit and sarcasm as stinging as her ivy green dress.

That wasn't even the worse of it...no that would be raising outrage in the faces of those boys' girlfriends, faces that reddened and paled with incredulous disbelief at this interloper on their territory.

...It probably didn't help that Connie then arched a brow, and _smiled_ at them.

Well. There was a first impression that wasn't gonna go away. Not anytime soon. If ever. Wendy just walked closer to Cherry and tried to focus on the number of doors they were passing.

Besides that, what she would have to be blind not to noticed was the divide running through the student body. On one side, there were kids like her...dressed like her in neat new clothes, minimum make-up on the girls -that in Wendy's case, hadn't wanted as it always bothered her skin, but Con point blank told her wasn't optional. Which was how she wound up with a dab of mascara and blue eye-shadow- and clean hair cuts for the boys. Socs, according to what she had been told.

Which meant the other half would be the Greasers. Of the two, they were the most noticeable. How could they not be? The girls were caked with make-up, hair curled more wildly than Connie ever tried. And some of their clothes sprouted hemlines that made Wendy wonder if they even planned on sitting down at all. The boys were clothed in t-shirts, plaids and leather, hair shinning in the light from having been greased back. They looked hard beaten.

"Well here we are!" Cherry announced suddenly. Wendy looked forward to see the words _main office_ painted in black letters on clear glass. "See ya'll at lunch right?"

"Right," Wendy assured her -no way was she sitting alone. Con merely nodded.

"See ya then."

"Bye."

The office was another tripped into the Twilight Zone...creepily identical to the one the Allen's girls had left behind them in D.C. Right done to the sound's of typewriters and the Auntie, willow frame looking secretary.

"Hello dears," she greeted them around her horned glasses, pulling her cigarette out of her red painted mouth and setting it in the ash tray. Wendy was reminded of her Aunt Jeanie, a happy, cowgirl of a lady who still wore make-up for the pleasure of it, even though she was a teacher. Dad had mentioned now and then of going to visit her out in Windrixville. But nothing had ever really come of that.

"Your the new girls, right? Connie and Wendy Allen?"

"Yes ma'am," they chorused together, nodding their carefully curled heads. The lady beamed, and happily fished out their schedules form a folder. While this was happening, their was a commotion from inside the principles office, the sound of exasperated adults, demanding a Mr. Matthew explain just how Mrs. Adolini's car ended up covered in eggs?

"Don' know what to tell you folks. Birds been actin' strange lately. Must be something in the feed they been getting," was the cheerful reply of a tall boy with rusty side burns.

Wendy stared, then quickly pressed her hand to her mouth to hold back a giggle. Good golly, Even Con's mouth was twitching a little with genuine mirth. They weren't they only ones, even the principle seemed to biting chuckles back. Not that it stopped him from giving the boy detention.

"I'll clear up my schedule then!" the kid answered cheerfully, bouncing out of the room. His hair proclaimed him a Greaser, but the fun in his steps made him much less imposing than his fellows. He even tipped an invisible hat to the girls, eyeing them up and down playfully, before holding a finger to his lips as he swiped the secretary's cigarette and stole away.

"Here you are!" the obvious lady sang merrily, like Debbie Reynolds in _Singing in the Rain._ "I hope you enjoy your stay with us."

Wendy's mouth tipped up in another smile. You'd think they were at a hotel or something.

"What do you have first Wen?" Connie muttered as they left the office and arrived to their neighboring lockers, eyes scanning her sheet before her. Wendy held her own up, trailing down the room numbers for the day.

 _History - Room 301 8:00 A.M. to 8:45 A.M._

 _Science - Room 101 9:00 A.M. to 9:45 A.M._

 _Gym - 10:00 A.M. to 10:45 A.M._

 _Study Hall Room 122 11:00 A.M. to 11:30 A.M_

 _Lunch 11:30 A.M to 12:30 A.M_

 _Art Room 121 12:30 A.M to 1:35 P.M._

 _English Room 102 1:35 P.M. to 2:30 P.M._

By the end of the list, Wendy was sure her jaw was open. Lord above, she'd be running ragged all over this place. Her legs were tired just thinking about it.

Even Connie was sympathy when she looked it over. "Well, at least you got English right before you go home. That's your favorite right?"

Wendy tried to keep her shoulders from slumping. "Right..."

* * *

S*S

Despite trying to put a positive spin on things, Wendy was nevertheless huffing and puffing by the time she had bounced up the stairs to history class. She made just before the door closed, and tried to explain why to the teacher, a dark haired Italian woman with cool, Connie-eyes, but she just waved it aside.

"Just take a seat Miss Allen," she said, a bit to her voice that said she wasn't having a good day. Her introduction as Mrs. Adolini explained why.

"Yes, ma'am," Wendy wheezed, hardly in the mood to argue.

The rest of class didn't get much better. No one person was paying attention to the teacher, preferring to look at Wendy, with the obvious question of "Who the heck is this kid?" plain in their eyes. Soc and greaser alike were semi-unified in their examination of her, trying to place Wendy on one side of the scale or the other.

It was like being an ant under a magnifying glass. She could feel her wrist itching. 9:00 A.M couldn't come soon enough. And when it did, she was flying out the door, desperate to make it back down the three flights of stairs for science.

Going down was easier than going up, and she made it was better time to spare, but nevertheless granted herself the luxury of just tuning out the intro to class in order to catch her breath. Though she wasn't to sure what she'd do for the rest of the year.

Gym was a relief, as ironically, there was nothing to do for the first day. By the time this year was out, she be fit as an Olympic runner. And she supposed she'd have Study Hall to relax in for a while, until the real work load started. And praise God, her next class was right next door to it after a lunch reunion with her sister and their group.

There was another welcomed surprise to this. In Art class, the person running in late was Ponyboy Curtis, the boy from the stand at the rodeo, looking just as harried as she'd felt this morning. Now, Wendy had to admit, she was surprised to see him, as it blew her thought that he was twelve out of the water. Still it didn't stop her from wincing in sympathy as kid nearly turn to jello in his seat, barely able to comprehend as the teacher asked after Sodapop Curtis.

"He's alright, sir," Ponyboy answered, when he could. "Just on bed rest for a week more cause'a his ligament. He ain't sorry for missing school though."

"Course the grease monkey isn't," muttered the boy next to Wendy. David was his name, one of Bob's numerous friends. Fortunately, Ponyboy didn't hear, though the kids that did snickered. Her wrist itched. Still, all and all, it promised to be a good class. And the next one, mercifully down the hall, was her favorite subject.

Her mood uplifted the moment she stepped into the room, sunlight steaming in from the windows with the friendliest looking teacher she'd seen yet in this school. Mr. Syme was a tall, gangly man in a gray suit and gold rim spectacles, and a kind smile. He was meticulous though, since he was the only teacher Wendy'd meet so far who'd taken the time to make a seating arrangement.

All the incoming kids were made to stand against the wall, waiting while Mr. Syme called out their names and filled the seats row by row in a gradual trickle. Wendy didn't really pay attention until a "Jonathan Cade" was called, and she got another blast from summer.

Stepping forward quietly was the shadow in the blue jean jacket, the friend at the booth. His wary face smoothed into a calm expression as his hands rested in his pockets. Without a word, he made his way back to the corner desk by the window, as directed, and Wendy felt a touch of envy. Rats. She was hoping for that space.

"Miss Allen?"

Blinking, she straightened. "Yes sir?"

Mr. Syme pointed. "To the right of Mr. Cade if you please."

Oh, well. Alright then. One desk over wasn't bad. Not at all. Nodding obediently, she briskly walked over and took her designated seat, smoothing her skirt before she sat down.

When everybody was settled, Mr. Syme addressed them all.

"Some of you are probably wondering why I decide to do things this way," he started calmly, hand resting on his desk. "But over the years I've had too much nonsense over projects and people unable -unwilling- to work together for petty childishness. So here the deal," he gestured vertically to the line along the window. "Look to the person on your right...go on. Look."

Eventually, the line did so, not fully following what was going on, and Wendy instinctively turned her head to look back, though she had a hard time making herself meet Jonathan's gaze. She fidgeted in her seat, and was only a little relived when he did likewise, though he hide it better, only chewing his lip a little.

"This will be you partner on all project assignments that involve two people. So I suggest you get along with 'em."

This caused a noticeable stir among the students, but Wendy didn't really hear it, she was too busy blinking, trying to process what she'd just been told. Project partners. English usually had a lot of writing assignments and such, project based on books weren't uncommon. But Wendy hated having project partners back home. Somehow, she always ended up doing all the work.

She took a breath. _That doesn't mean it will happen here._ Sucking in some courage, she made herself look Jonathan in the eye, black and blue. They were as startled as she felt, and cautious as he looked her over. Like he was worried. Well, if they would eventually work together, it was best if they got of on the right foot.

With that in mind, Wendy forked up a smile, shy smile, and held out her hand.

"Hello, I'm Wendy," she greeted in a soft whisper. That seemed to surprise him some, judging from the flickering in his depths of his gaze, as they traveled from her hand to her face, to her hand again.

Wendy felt her smile fade a little, and she considered pulling her hand back. Before she could do so, her partner slowly reach out his own arm, and eased his long fingers around her palm. His grip twitched a little, and he held her hand loosely, like he expected her to pull away; but when she didn't, he allowed it to become a little more firm.

"Johnny," he whispered back.

* * *

Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay, so our heroes have met! How was the trip back through high school, I had to search my memory banks. Hope the characters are forming along nicely. If anything in here doesn't sound authentic let me know.


	5. Johnny and Leave it to Beaver

lulusgardenfli : Classical style? Well you are a classical reviewer! Thank you so much!

HappierThanMost : Nice to hear from you again Happy! I glad to love the scene with Wendy and Connie, the tension with them is a major part of the story. More Johnny coming up!

Guest: I'm so flattered that you're so taken with Wendy's character! I hope she continues to impress!

songsingsitself : Noted and I'll work on it.

Phoenix Arisen Again: I'm glad you enjoy Connie's sibling! I love them two!

doomseas1 : I'm glad your enjoying it!

* * *

Chapter V

* * *

S*S

Wendy beamed pleasantly at her partner's self-introduction, spoken in the soft rasp of crunched autumn leaves. A smoker's rasp, she knew very well from her Dad and Uncle Jerry, since she could just barely smell a cigarette's lingering whiff on his jacket collar, mixed alongside other scents of fresh grass and rich earth.

Johnny. __Not Johnathan,__ she noted, tucking that information away so she'd remember it. She nodded, pleased. Wendy liked the name Johnny better in any case. It sounded more approachable than Johnathan, more like the wiry shadow he was, than the Biblical warrior of his namestake. And that gave her a good, hopeful feeling for this year; in the agreeable way he'd reached out to take her hand.

His own was a little calloused as his lifted hers up and down briefly, but his grip was gentle. And his gaze was smart enough to make her curious. And thankful.

Especially since around the classroom...not everybody was having the same amount of satisfaction with their partners, already snipping fire at each other. Wendy didn't need that. So with effort, she let her smile widen a bit, trying to make herself appear more welcoming.

"Nice to meet you, Johnny."

Maybe it was her nerves imagining things, but she thought she saw a flicker of surprise in the depths of his gaze, though he tamped it down before Wendy could say for sure. Nodding carefully, he released her hand at once, bringing it to rest across his desk instead; long fingers drumming against the abused wood. No sure what else to do or say, Wendy shuffled uncertainty within her own seat; sitting prim and straight and awkward and very, very quiet.

They probably would've passed the rest of class like that, if Mr. Syme hadn't turned to the chalkboard and sketched out their first assignment...labeled __ten things to know about your partner,__ and making the whole class groan midway through the white marks.

"You're killing us here sir," a Steve Randle complained from up front, speaking for all of them. The rest were decidedly well dressed, but in far less expensive clothing. Middle classers, she believed Cherry had called them.

"Hardly Mr. Randle," was the dry reply. "I'm sure you'll survive. I'll even give you an incentive. When your done with this assignment, tear it out and present it to me as your ticket out the door."

The class groaned again.

"Nice going Randle," somebody hissed bitterly. Steve gave a rude hand gesture in retaliation to the boy when Mr. Syme wasn't looking...though Wendy could tell from the twitch of his lips and gleam of his eyes that he saw it anyways. And cheerfully ignored it.

 _ _He's enjoying this...__ she marveled, as she began to realize that their teacher must've planned every single step and reaction for his class. It was brilliant, a Twilight Zone Twist. Admittedly though, she wished it wasn't at her expense.

* * *

S*S

Well, with little choice now, the two of them turned to face each other again, like nervous sparrows at a bird bath, unwilling to test the water. Wendy hastily fished her notebook out of her schoolbag, and tore a page loose for the assignment. Followed by another, when she realized Johnny didn't have a notebook of his own. Or a pencil for that matter.

So she loaned him one of hers, watching as her olive fingers brushed his darker ones. Wendy could tell he'd bitten his nails recently.

Pulling back quickly, he offered a low "thanks" in that raspy autumn tone, greased-banged head ducked slightly like he was shy...or ashamed. Though if it was the later, Wendy couldn't fathom why. She'd borrow supplies from classmates before, many times over the years. Surely everyone had, so it wasn't an unusual thing by any means. But she didn't want to bring that up when there was work to do. So she just nodded back and murmured a simple "you're welcome."

To say the questioning was awkward at first was the understatement of the decade. If she'd left it up to her partner, they'd have nothing at the end of class, so Wendy took the clumsily first step, toddling like a infant. It made it a few inches before falling into a little something like this:

"So..." she finally drew out, like pulling a tooth. "What do you think of _ _Leave it Beaver?__ "

He blinked. "Um...it's alright I guess."

"Oh...I like Wally. He's my favorite character."

"That's neat."

Which was embarrassing, to put it mildly. She could just picture Connie either facepalming, or outright disowning her (how in the world did she make talking to boys look so effortless?). Not to mention that Johnny had his head tilted, looking at Wendy like she was the Living Doll or the creature from the Black Lagoon. Least to her eyes he was.

Sucking in a breath, she swallowed the lump of humility in her throat and hoped her face wasn't as red as it felt.

 _ _Well, at least that gets one question out of the way,__ she tried to think positively, with mixed results as she jotted down the answer. Johnny did likewise. _ _One down, nine more to go.__

She glanced over at him when she finished, her penmanship much faster than his own. He was a lefty like her, holding her pencil with three fingers instead of the normal two, much like how she held her own between her index and pointer, a habit that had driven her teachers crazy when she was younger. Even though she'd never had a grade lower than a B in her life. Such a silly thing to have to matter. Even today, Mrs. Andolini had narrowed her eyes and basically made the sign of the cross as she watched Wendy in her class.

Her thoughts were interrupted when his writing stilled suddenly. And blinking, she realized he'd noticed her watching his hands. While his inquisitive look was far from intimidating, her gaze was about to drop in shame before comprehension swept his face.

"So...that's another thing, right?" he murmured after a moment, motioning gently to their writing hands.

Wendy couldn't help but perked up a bit at that, which in response earned her a slight tug at the corner of his mouth. They wrote it down, and as lead danced against the blue lined paper, inspiration struck and Wendy had the next question.

"So...you've lived in Tulsa all you life?"

Johnny dipped his head briefly in acknowledgement. "Never been anywhere but here."

He licked his lips, a curiosity slipping from his own tongue. "How 'bout you. Where you from?"

"Washington D.C." she answered with fond remembrance, spinning her pencil in her fingers. "Do...do you have any siblings?"

"Nah...well...kinda. But not really. You?"

"A sister and two brothers."

"You the oldest?"

"Feels like it some times, but I'm second oldest."

But then end of the class, Wendy had learned that Johnny Cade's was born in Tulsa, he was a lefty, he had no siblings, his middle name was Antonio, his favorite food was pizza and spaghetti (he couldn't decide between the two), he was fifteen like her, his birthday on March 1th, he liked Elvis, his favorite song was _Hound Dog_ , and he smoked since he was eleven. Oh, and he liked __Leave it to Beaver__.

But while they mutter quietly back and forth, Wendy couldn't help but notice that Johnny's dark gaze kept flickering to their classmates around them, like a fox trying to dodge a pack of bloodhounds. At first, she didn't understand. Then as time passed, she noticed her partner didn't care about any of the middle classers, only the three other Socs in the room. Without Wendy, two guy she didn't know and girl called Beth Mays were the only Socs, seated way up in the front in the other corner by the door.

She frowned then, following his line of sight. And maybe...maybe he had reason too. Cause every now and then, she'd catch Beth turning away from her middle class partner to watch __them__. Wendy raised her eyebrows when she saw this -she knew English class was boring to most, but she and Johnny couldn't be __that__ much of a show.

Apparently they were, though, too the point where a note, sent from Beth, wound up on her desk midway through the class with a simple message: _ _The Greaser treating ya o.k. Wendy?__

For a second the thing didn't compute. Simply didn't process from her eyes to her brain, like a faulty telephone wire. Oh, yes, _ _Leave it to Beaver__ and _Hound Dog_ made for ghastly conversation. Wendy didn't think she'd ever recover.

Honestly, she might've been tempted to just giggle...and probably would have too, if Johnny hadn't gone still, very still. His gaze closed off into blank disks instead of eyes, devoid of emotion as they look at her, before down at his desk, jaw tense. That sucked any humor out of the note, and Wendy made a point of positioning the paper so he could see her reply before she folded it up and sent it back:

 _ _Yes, just fine.__

Figuring the matter was settled, she tried to forget it as she and Johnny Cade got back to work, but the air around them had changed from earlier, like a gauzy curtain that wasn't there before. Johnny didn't seem to think it was worth his while to converse with her now that he absolutely wasn't require too...and Wendy supposed she couldn't really blame him for that.

Biting her lip again, she tried to respect that, really she did...but a curious tug on her gaze had her watching him out of corner of her eye. The note had named him a Greaser, and she couldn't contest that. After all, he obviously was. Both his jean jacket and the black t-shirt he wore under it had seen better days, and his sneakers were caked with years of mud that must've been holding them together. Like glue.

Her brow furrowed. Though what that had to do with how he treated her, she didn't pretend to know. Gosh, they were in a English classroom filled to bursting with students. What could he do to her? And it wasn't just David or Beth...Bob, Jack, even Randy and the girls. They all acted as if the invasion of Normandy was going on.

She didn't understand it.

She still didn't, when class came to an end and students were scrambling to present their papers to freedom, prompting Johnny to give her back her pencil with another muttered thanks before making for the door.

This time, he made sure their fingers didn't brush.

"Nice to meet you," Wendy repeated herself as he departed, earning a brief nod of acknowledgement before they were out the door and separated by the surge of the crowd.

* * *

S*S

Slightly downhearted from how the whole debacle had turned out, Wendy pitter pattered her way down the hall to her locker, eager to rid her bag of the books she didn't need to carry home with her. Which basically was none. Only Mrs. Andolini had assigned her class homework on the first day. Not that finding some basic facts about the State of Oklahoma would be terrible hard. Still, from the uncompromising way she had assigned it, Wendy was starting to understand why her car might've been egged in the first place-

"Wendy!"

Looking up from where she was discarding her Math and English books, Wendy saw Cherry and Connie and the other girls in the group rushing her way, eyes lit with varying emotions -Cherry and Marcia look concerned, so did Peggy to a lesser degree. Meanwhile, Lilian Wood boarded on being almost smug, gleeful in the pinched corner of her mouth. As for Connie, her sister just looked distantly baffled.

"Um, yes?" Wendy finally asked, for lack of anything else to say.

"Are ya okay?"

She blinked. "Well, yeah, it's only the first day. I don't even have a lot of homework."

Cherry shook her head impatiently, "No, that not what I meant. Look Wen, we just ran inta Beth Mays and she-"

"She said ya were in her English class, and glad-hand Syme paired ya up with a Greaser that runs round with Curtis' brothers and __Dallas Winston,"__ Lilian finished with a bit of relish on the last two words, though it meant nothing to the either Allen girl.

"Who?" Connie droned, hand on her hip, speaking the same time as her sister. And this earned them plenty of disbelieving stares, like they were aliens off the moon.

"Who? _ _Who?__ Glory Allens, Dallas Winston is the toughest hood in Tulsa, probably all of Oklahoma!" Marcia exclaimed, eyes wide. "King of the beasts! Lord of the flies! And with a meaner temper than a grizzly!"

"Sounds wild," Connie remarked dryly.

Wendy snorted.

Lilian sniffed. "Like a rabid tiger maybe."

Wendy tried to process this. She didn't know anything about rabid tigers or bears (oh my) but the boy she met in class belonged in neither category. He still reminded her of a dark furred fox, well aware of that fact that he was surrounded by larger hunting animals. She knew how boys could be, it was part of the reason she worried after Sam and Eric, since they were small for their age. They'd had problems at school before with bigger classmates.

A surge of guilt floated her then. She hardly spared the twins a second thought all day, when it was as much their first day too. Were they all right? Did they like their teachers? Had they made friends?

"We're getting off topic," Cherry snapped, look annoyed. "So this kid treated you good, Wendy?"

She nodded, hugging her bag strap to her shoulder. "Yeah, he was fine. And its not like we had a choice you know. We __had__ to work together. We'll have to whole year-"

"Rotten luck," Lilian smirked.

Wendy ignored her, though a flare of irritation made her lips tighten. "-so I'll just make the best of it. Anything else?"

"Yeah," Connie said, twirling a dark curl round and round her finger. "Is he cute?"

* * *

S*S

 _ _Well, I walked right into that one,__ Wendy thought, flushing, while Peggy and Lillian gasped, apparently horrified at the thought.

Thankfully, she was spared from answering when Cherry broke in.

"Look, we gotta get goin' or Bob and the others will start lookin' for us. Come on," she ordered irritable. And such was her status that neither Lilian or Connie dared argue. Instead, they five of them moved as one through the halls, Wendy closing her locker before falling in step behind them. She fell a few steps further back with Peggy when it became clear a battle of looks was happening between Lilian and her sister, both girls strutting step for step against the linoleum floor. It was like watching two chariot pulling horses race in the Roman arena.

And of the two, Connie was winning. Most defiantly winning with her easy grace, and that secretive, Mona Lisa smile; favoring everyone and no one equally. The fact that Lilian was slowly turning more and more red probably helped in that regard, as the girls made their way down the front steps of the school, back out into the sunlight.

No way was she getting in the middle of that, Wendy preferred her head firmly on her shoulders thank-you-very-much. Bu someone was braver than her, and a talented whistle broke the air with glee.

Following the familiar sound, Wendy saw the culprit was none other than "Mr. Matthews" from earlier in the day. And he wasn't alone, Steve Randle stood to the left of him, Johnny Cade to his right. From the wide grin on his face, Wendy could tell rusty haired boy recognized them.

"Work it darlin's!" he called out in genuine endorsement. "Come on, work it for me! Don't be shy!"

Lilian's nostrils flared like an angry cow before she stormed away towards the parking lot, Cherry and Marcia hurrying after her with a bite to the redhead's tone. But Connie stilled long enough to toss a lazy smile her admirer's way.

"Call a little louder why don't you," she suggested. "They might've hear you on Independence, but I sure can't hear you."

Matthews' eyebrows shot up with delight. "Well, we got a live one here don't we?"

"You just try and find out," Con returned smoothly, before gilding out of the conversation, skirt swaying around her knees, and Wendy just shook her head, and wonder for the hundredth time how did she _ _do__ that? Breathing out, she made to follow in her sister wake, like always, when Peggy stopped her by remaining still, and gently tugged on her arm, wide eyes timid, but curious.

"Isn't the boy in blue your partner, Wen?" she asked.

Involuntarily, Wendy's gaze lifted to find his, while he stood quietly besides his friends, and Con's question wiggled it's way back into her mind.

She fidgeted in her spot.

... _ _Yes,__ she silently admitted. If she were being honest, she'd say yes. Yes he __was__ cute. Very cute, with a narrowed Italian looking face, smooth copper tan skin, full but chapped lips and long eyelashes, half hidden by his bangs (why did guys get the best eyelashes anyways?) and solemn stare.

"Yes, that's him."

Peggy looked up, brown doe eyes soft and trotted on. "He's kinda rough lookin'. Ya __sure__ you'll be alright this year?"

This time, the question didn't really bother Wendy. How could it, coming from Peggy, so little, so quiet, so often forgotten among the louder voices in the group? With the concern in her voice being both honest and genuine. Softened, Wendy offered the same smile she'd give Sam and Eric, looping her arm through Peggy's paler one.

"I'm sure," she started to promised. But Peggy nervously cut her off.

"He's lookin' at ya."

Losing track of what she was about to say, Wendy followed her friend's gaze to see a dark one widen with the startlement of being caught, before quickly jerking away, hands shoved deep into his pockets. Unfortunately for him, Matthews saw this and a wicked grin crossed his face as he began nudging he friend.

"Ah, Johnnycakes grownin' up so fast. He got himself a little girlfriend!"

His voiced carried, and it was hard to tell which face of the two mentioned people got redder. "Shut up Two-Bit. She ain't my girlfriend! I told ya-"

Johnny's embarrassed sounding protest was drowned when "Two-Bit" lassoed an arm around his neck and began hulling him away, false sobbing in loud Italian voice about his "little Johnbino" leaving him. And somehow, in watching this scene, both Wendy and Peggy wound up in a fit of giggles themselves, till their eyes watered with mirth.

"Like I was saying," Wendy gasped out when she could. "I think I'll be fine."

To her relief, Peggy merely nodded, looking satisfied.

"If you say so Wendy. It's just English after all."

"Right," Wendy beamed, glad to be taken seriously for once. "Come on now, before Bob leaves us."

* * *

Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Well, I hope you enjoyed reading the English scene as I had writing it...poor Wendy needs a little more practice talking to boys before she's as smooth as her sister.


	6. Alone and notebooks

Guest2: Glad to hear you love it!

HappierThanMost : Thank you for your beautiful reviews, I'm so glad you feel Johnny's becoming real to you. Hope you continue to feel that way this chapter.

Guest 1: Well, here's an update!

Kokun: Well, you don't have to wait, here you go!

Guest 3: Thank you kind sir for my internet prize! I'm so glad you enjoy Wendy and Johnny's first interaction.

doomseas1 : I'm glad your enjoying it!

* * *

Chapter VI

* * *

S*S

The blur of cars and houses rushed together at a rate that surely went against the laws of motion. Of course, the fact that more people that it was safe were currently piled into Bob's mustang probably had something to do with that. And also with the death grip Wendy had on the seatbelt only she, Cherry and -following their example- Peggy care enough to put on; despite the bemused looks on the faces of her friends, and the long suffering, almost inaudibly sigh from her sister, who still eyed her disapprovingly in the review mirror.

Wendy somehow made a face right back at her, though the fact it was chalk white probably lessened the intended effect. Still if Bob crashed them into a tree, and everyone went flying through the windshield like crash dummies...well...they couldn't blame her then could they? The car bounced a bit as they went over a speedbump to fast, and Wendy thought she felt her stomach high-fiving her tonsils. Peggy whimpered but the others laughed. Still laughing, Bob suddenly took a screeching corner way to sharp, and Wendy could tell that Cherry was reaching the already low limit of what she could tolerate - the redhead hadn't liked the idea of so many people riding at once in the first place, but allowed herself to be talked into it. She was obviously regretting that now.

"Bob Sheldon!" she screeched, grasping the wheel to make sure he stayed at least partly within the lines. "If you can't stop driving like a drunk, pull over! I'm getting out!"

The blazing look in her eye was enough to get through her boyfriend's adrenaline filled head, and he obliged. True to form, Cherry stormed out, slamming the door with the force of her disgust. Which amplified as Bob tried to sweet talk her.

"Baby, come on now-"

"No, _you_ come on!" Cherry snapped like a ringmaster's whip, unable to brake a lion. "You can put yourself in an early grave if ya want, but ya not takin' me with ya!"

Then Cherry had allowed her gaze to scan over the rest of the car. "Anyone who wants to get home alive is free ta join me."

That was all the invitation Wendy needed. Marcia too for that matter.

Undoing her seatbelt, Wendy took the liberty of pulling an indecisive Peggy with her. After all, who knew how much worse Bob and the others would be with the voice of reason gone? Their protest didn't seem to have much of an effect on the others though, who merely took advantage of the free space.

"I'm staying out late, Wen," Connie announced pleasantly, rolling with the new developments as always. "So when dinner's going, don't bother with a setting a place for me, alright?"

Wendy's jaw twitch. Actually if truth be told, whenever Wendy set the table nowadays, more often than not she had to be reminded to set a place for Connie. Which wasn't surprising really, when you were dealing with a person who was absent more times than she was present.

"Alright," she said, monotone and arms folded. Con smirked.

"See you hon," she said, lacing a normally sweet endearment with informal distance, the tang tasting of sour ice instead of honey.

* * *

S*S

"I'm so sorry y'all" Cherry apologized miserably as the three of them walked the way home together. Which wasn't so bad altogether, really, Wendy would have to admit. Really it wasn't. The day was beautiful: sun out, birds chirping, and the leaves were long, the grass was greener today than it had been most of August. New and fresh. It was nice to be out of a car enjoying it. Lord knew soon enough they wouldn't be able to, and Wendy shuddered at the thought of snow and winter.

"Bob, he...he doesn't normally do that," Cherry continued, hands flopping slightly. "He just...when he get around people, he likes to push the envelope, ya know? Likes to show off..."

"We know," Wendy assured her, while Peggy and Marcia nodded at her side. "He wasn't like that when he drove Con and me to school this morning."

Though, that was probably because none of the guys had been there with them. He had been on his best behavior then, gallant and charming and attentive towards Cherry, holding her hand across the seat, playing tic-tact-toe across her fingers and making her blush with just his smile.

But Wendy couldn't make herself say any of that now, Cherry didn't look like she need the reminder. So she just settled for the simple truth as the girls walked arm and arm down the pavement.

"You don't have to apologize for him you know, you're not his mother," she added. Peggy nodded again, though she immediately stopped when Cherry heaved a long sigh, eyes shut and drawn like moat of a castle, braced for siege.

They didn't say much for the rest of the way...wasn't any time too. Bob had been close to their street by the time Cherry made him pull over, the pillared houses and immaculate lawns freshly sprinkled with the occasional child running through them, watched either by a mother or uniformed nanny. Peggy detached and departed from them in front of one such house, muttering her farewell before darting away. Wendy watched her with brows furrowed. She'd have to remember to call her sometime, make sure she was alright.

She tucked the thought away for later, as she and Cherry part ways themselves as their street diverge, and Wendy finished the walk to her house the way she seemed to do most things. Alone. She hugged the strap of her bookbag tighter.

Which she didn't mind much. Not really. At all.

 _"We're all vanderers on this earth, Chey,"_ her mother had told her once, during her illness, when she still could. _"Our hearts are filled with vonder and our souls our filled vith dreams darhling. But dreams are lonely things Wendy...often, dreams make you valk alone. That is the choice everyone must make. Is their dream worth being alone?"_

Wendy flinched at the memory, uncertain why out of all the ones she cherish about Mary "Mariska" Allen, her subconscious had conjured _that_ particular one up for analysis. It was important...but not a favorite. Worse...she didn't know the answer for it anymore. Wonder? Dreams? What _were_ her dreams?

It had been a long time since she'd even had the present of mind to consider such things -like finding an old storybook you use to love in the attic or basement, and blowing off the years of dust. When...when she was little, Wendy supposed she'd had dreams like every other little kid, the way Sam and Eric had their now. Though of course, hers were of the girly verity. She was going to be a big movie star, she remembered wryly, a twitch tugging at her lips. And she was also going to cowgirl the week after that, along with a ballerina and (when she was very little) a princess. But through all her childish dream swapping, one thing had remained constant. Little-girl Wendy had always, _always_ known that, no matter what she did, she be a good mother too, just like her Mama. It was as inevitable as food on the table. Little girls grew up, and no matter what they did, in some shape or form, they became mothers. Least...that was what Mary had told her.

As Wendy got older, a sudden revelation at twelve had solidify all her the threads of her childhood imagining under one banner. Instead of being the movie story or the cowgirl, or the princess, she'd write about them. Whole stories and worlds with them, out of the millions running through her head. And she started right away. Not very good at first, naturally, but she loved it. And she got better and better every year, until even her teachers took noticed and sent one in to a local newspaper contest. And _won_.

Ecstatic, Wendy had floated on air all the way home...where she had found her mother unconscious among her rose bushes. She didn't write anymore for a long time after that. How could she, when all thought and creation in her head revolved around death with no hope? No one would want to read that. And she refused to write it. Besides, she had her family to worry over...especially as it became painfully clear that Dad was incapable...and Connie uninterested.

 _Don't think about that now Wendy. It's over,_ she reminded herself, though the thoughts and memory and feel of that time was still with her; under her skin, in her blood, calling her name with poison and fear as the world crumpled and shrank around her, like flame around paper. Her wrist itch.

* * *

S*S

When she finally reached the Allen's house, Wendy couldn't find interest in the thought of spending time inside the place. What was the point? The twins wouldn't be home for another hour, Connie was saints-knows-where doing who-knows-what, and Dad...Dad wouldn't be home until later this night. No...in dawning revelation, Wendy realized that for once she actually had, for the first time in a long time...time to herself.

And she just how she wanted to spend it.

Stepping directly around the house to the backyard, Wendy trotted across it to the tree line, passing though it's gates of shade and hemlocks on the path she and her brothers had discovered while exploring this summer. Immediately, the weight of her schoolbag lighten on her shoulders, forgotten or absolve by the grace of this woody place, where the leaves of years were thickly spew, timeless in the glinting light.

Carefully slide one olive leg, followed by the other, over the gray waist of a fallen tree, Wendy allowed herself lose sight of the house, confident from previous outings that she knew her way back from this journey's end.

As the trees around her gradually lessen, she knew she was coming upon the jewel of her brothers' exploration -so much so, that the moment they found it, they had run back home to tell her.

"It's perfect for you Wendy," Eric had told her.

"Yeah," Sam added. "Quiet and green and kinda sad, but pretty too you know?"

And it was. In a pocket clearing the woods held a small baby green pond, with an lopsided willow tree growing at one bank, and the brick ruins of old house on the other side (which she'd expressly forbade the twins from getting close too) sitting peacefully among the tall grass. The moment Wendy appeared before it, her grin couldn't be hidden and she dropped her bag in order wiggle out of her shoes and socks, wanting to feel the warm ground beneath her feet.

Making her way to the willow, Wendy took the time to study the poor thing, like she always did. What put it in this state, she didn't well know. Best she could figure was that a tornado or something had blow the tree sideways, so it's truck and canopy hung over the pond, green limbs dangling into the water. But the roots had held firm, and the willow continued to grow, curving upward again. Kinda like people.

Clambering on top of one of the stronger roots, Wendy sat herself prettily on the natural desk, opening her bag and spreading her text book and note book before her. Once she was on the correct page for the assignment, she opened her notebook...and paused. While she had tore out the first assignment about her partner like the rest of the class, Wendy had been so nervous that her pencil had pressed down harder than necessary on the paper, leaving the ghost of the words on a clean page. She didn't know why, but something made her reach for her pencil again now, after running her finger along the imprint. With a steady hand now, she traced over the markings, essentially recreating the original with the ten facts regarding their subject. Once done, she paused again, head tilted.

Why she wanted to preserve such meaningless trivia would probably be beyond most people...she didn't understand it herself. Or most of what happened in that classroom, the moment after the note was passed.

 _One day,_ _I'll figure it out_ , Wendy promised herself, before flipping to a clean page, and diving into her homework.

* * *

S*S

With a whapping seven boys to feed, dinner at the Curtis house was rarely the orderly event advertised on T.V.

But that was fine and dandy as far the gang was concern. What they had here was much better. On that point, Johnny Cade easily cast his lot to make the vote unanimous. Hell, if it weren't for the Cutis' inviting him over, he'd probably never would've know that a meal could happen without insults, plates or boiling hot coffee being thrown on differing victims, depending on what phase the moon was in.

He almost winced at the recollection before putting it away. Damn if that hadn't hurt like a bitch though -and he hadn't even been main target that time. Just the bystander.

 _Like always._

"Hey Johnny B. Goode, pass some that fine ham over this way," Mr. Curtis commanded with a grin to rival that of his middle son...who was exclude from the table by virtue of his mother following the doctor's order regarding bedrest to the letter. And considering that Mrs. Curtis still pretended that Vatican II never happened, and continued to attend a church where Latin mass was still the rule, there would be only cradle Catholic leniency for Sodapop in regards to this doctrine. Meaning none. None whatsoever. Eh, Johnny felt sorry for him, sure -Soda had such a bad case of stir crazy...well, a _worse_ case of stir crazy, at any rate -that the man was looking forward to going back to school.

Still, was nice to have some elbow room at the table.

That thought was enough to bring a wry grin to his tan face as his fingers complied, lifting the plate with it's steaming contents and stretching it over the table. Taking it, Mr. Curtis took an exaggerated whiff, damn near rolling his eyes back. Johnny bit the corner of his mouth.

"Ah gross Dad, the rest of have to eat that too ya know," Ponyboy complained from his place besides his father. On the other side, Darry snorted and gave his youngest brother a lazy stare.

"So said the most notorious double dipper in the state of Oklahoma," he noted drily.

"Only with my own ketchup!" Pony protested, ears going red.

"Keep telling yourself that -cause you steal others when yours's runs dry."

"That's true Ponyboy," Two-bit chimed in. "Your a downright ketchup bushranger."

"...I hate you all," the youngest boy muttered as the table laughed; though out of loyalty to his friend, Johnny dropped his head and chuckled quietly into his lap. Dramatic much Pony?

"Ya seem a mite quiet, Johnnycakes," Mr. Curtis said evenly, while he bruised himself with cutting his ham. A unruly eyebrow winged up with way too much mischief for a grown-ass man. Then again, being able to laugh what probably what keep him so young lookin', or at least cast the illusion that he was, to the point where folk mistook him and Darry for brothers instead of father and son. "Any reason why?"

Johnny tilted his head at that, puzzled. He was normally quiet. That wasn't usually by any means or measure. But then Two-Bit laughed, and he started to have a sinking feeling.

"Oh yeah," his buddy exclaimed evilly. "Johnnycakes here probably daydreamin' bout his new little girlfriend!"

Johnny felt his whole _body_ must be blushing like a beacon, he was that embarrassed. What followed next didn't help.

 _"What?!"_

That was near universal reaction from around the table, shocked from Pony, bafflement from Darry, and alertness from Dally. Steve was already in on it. And Mr. Curtis' mouth was spreading in a wide grin.

"Now when did this happen?" he drawled, leaning back in his chair.

" _Nothin'_ happened!" Johnny protested. "I told ya Two-bit, she ain't my girlfriend-"

 _"She?"_ Mrs. Curtis intercepted like Darry at one of his games. She was coming back from giving Soda dinner. "Whose this _she_?"

"Johnny's girlfriend," Two-bit supplied helpfully, angel like.

"She's _not_ my girlfriend," Johnny muttered, though he was bringing to figure it was a lost cause. "She's my English partner for this year. We're stuck with each other-"

Two-bit tutted.

"Now Johnnycakes," he explained patiently, like he was the principle at a parent-teacher conference, even folding his hand professional on the table."If ya paired off with a gal who hit every branch whiles falling off the ugly tree, _that's_ when you say your stuck with her. When ya paired with a cute little thing like that, that's when you fall to ya knees and thank Jesus for forgettin' you're a wicked sinner."

"Speak for yourself," Johnny huffed back, annoyed enough to let out some of the sass that swam under the pools of his quiet. Pony sniggered. Two-bit ignored him.

"Yes siree bub, you made out good. That one fine sweetheart face you get to gaze into all year long. Now her sister on the other hand," Two-bit grinned like Sylvester had at long last caught Tweedy. "Now that's a gal you can watch from every angle and leave a happy man."

"First girl I ever seen give you as good as she got, I'll give her that," Steve begrudged. Then he pointed his fork at Johnny. "Their still a couple of fancy skirt Socs, so if ya got to work with one, fine, but don't fall for any of their trick's ya hear?"

Dally nodded furiously. "Damn right."

"Dally, no language at the dinner table," Mrs. Curtis abolished, hands loaded on her hips -the only person who could get away with that without being belted.

Johnny just tried not to roll his eyes. Yeah, _Leave it to Beaver_ and _Moon River_ were clearly master tactics of manipulation. And he would know, having been around manipulative people. Lived with two of them. He could hold his own.

"What's her name?" Pony asked, to nosy for his own damn good. Two-bit clicked his cheek, thinking. Must've been tough.

"Not sure...know her sister's named Connie and their last name is Allen-"

"Wendy," Johnny finally said, giving in to the inevitable. "Her name's Wendy."

Mr. Curtis grinned and leaned over the table, winging up that eyebrow. "Well if anything does happen with this _Wendy,_ I want ta hear about it. You got me Johnny Cade?"

 _"Yeah, you got me Johnny Cade?!"_ the gang echoed, howling. Johnny just nodded. Fat chance of that happening.

* * *

S*S

Later that night, after the others hand gone home, Johnny hung round the porch. He'd carefully caught Mr. Curtis' eye before he left, and the man's answering glint was enough to let the boy know he'd been heard.

It didn't take long for Pony's Dad to steal a moment away, he was like Soda, surely liquid in a previous life, though in his hand the man held the ember of a cigarette.

"What's on ya mind Johnny B. Goode?" he asked, like an Indian smoking the peace pipe. He fidgeted in place, awkward.

"Um well...you see sir, I..." he paused and licked his lips before trying again. "Member how Mrs. C offered to uh...loan me Pony's notebooks from last year? I guess...I guess I'll be needing 'em after all."

There, he said it. Glory it was bitter havin' to take charity, even from friends...maybe especially from friends. And if it had just been him, he would've stuck with his original answer of no thank you. But it wasn't just him now. He had a partner, and it wouldn't be right if she got pulled down just cause he didn't have any supplies to work with.

Mr. Cutis gave a brisk nod, as no nonsense as his oldest son, before turning in the house to fetch the supplies. Still ashamed, Johnny kept his gaze on the crooked porch step when suddenly, two notebooks were slapped into his copper hands, and strong fingers were mussing up the back of his hair.

"You'll do fine son," Mr. C promised softly, before pulling back. Johnny nodded, before turning to sit on the step edge, just off the street.

"Couch is open tonight, if ya want."

"Thank you sir."

But he didn't think he need the couch just yet. The weather was fine and a night under the stars sounded good to him right about now. Still, not yet, he need the porch light for something. One of Pony's old notebook had a pencil still in it's spine, so after tapping it out, he opened to a blank page (Mr. C must've ripped out the used paper) and jotted from memory the list of ten things he learned about his project partner.

She was born in the Washington D.C. and was the second oldest in her family. Her middle name was Marie, and her birthday was December 8th. Her favorite colors were blue and white, while her favorite song was _Moon River_ from that Audrey Hepburn film. She was a lefty like him and the same age too, least for a while. She also loved the Righteous Brothers...then his mouth twitch.

And _Leave it to Beaver._

* * *

Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay, so I really hope you like a look into Johnny head, remember, he has been jumped yet and had all the fight kicked out of him, so he's a little more confidant and liberal with the sassiness that hinted at in the book. And Enjoyed Wendy's part too. Here's to Happier than most for Johnny's other nickname Johnny B. Goode.


	7. Bitter Watchs of the Night

lulusgardenfli : great to hear from you again! Yes, I think Johnny is a very strong character, and people forget that. But that quiet strength is what will draw Wendy to him.

Happier than Most: I'm so glad you love Wendy's thoughts, I really want her to be unique in her thoughts and mind.

Guest : I'm glad to like the pace of the relationship, it really important to get it right.

Kokun: There will be more of Johnny's point of view later on. I love writing him.

scillio: Yes, Connie was named after the Connie from the Godfather. You'll see why later in the story.

* * *

Chapter VII

* * *

S*S

"And after Bonnie got from the bathroom, she had toilet paper wrapped all around her like a mummy! I thought Miss Maloney was gonna drop dead right on the floor," Sam eagerly narrated later that night, around bites of mash potatoes that Wendy had prepared for herself and her brothers. By the simple fact that none of they had yet to die of food poisoning, Wendy interfered that she's wasn't a terrible cook. But her list of meals she could create on her own was rather...reparative. Potatoes, pasta, chicken soup, cakes for birthdays, and sandwiches for lunch.

Rinse and repeat. Left-overs were her salvation, a large enough meal could be stretched out over a week at the least. Even if that meant sacrificing the favor for connivance.

It wasn't like that with Mama. Of all the well-to-do families in their Washington neighborhood back home, the Allens had been one of the few that had never hired a cook. Mama wouldn't hear of it. The kitchen had been her passage to a realm beyond the time and countries and oceans, offering hints back her girlhood through the food she served - a lot of grilled and baked meat and vegetables, often spiced with paprika and chili. Tomato-based beef and vegetable stew. It use to be a senses-tantalizing mystery for Wendy and her siblings to come home for dinner, loving the way their eyes would explode in their sockets as their tongues watered with the favors of another world altogether.

That world was closed off from them now. Locked and bolted with the key thrown away. In the first mind numbing days after Mama was placed in the hospital, they'd all very nearly joined her; by reason of sudden malnutrition. That was what happen when you suddenly were scourging whatever you could, without any real appetite to eat. That is, until the horrible little light went off in Wendy's head, as Dad began tiredly mentioning hiring a cook to fix the problem. That was where she'd stepped up to her mother's place. And honestly... hadn't really stepped down since.

Though not without mishaps...the first meals she'd tried to create, she'd wound up burning her hands and wrists more often than not. As a result, she became very familiar with the wonders of their aloe plant.

But none of that mattered now.

"She sound's like quite a character," Wendy commented easily, loving the way both the boys were lit up with the memory. She was just relived their first day had gone without incident.

"She is. She's like a loony tunes character that escaped outa the television," Eric laughed. "Which is kinda funny, since when her brother picked her up he was wearing a Mickey Mouse shirt."

Wendy blinked, lifting her head from where it had been resting calmly on her hand. Suddenly, this conversation had gotten a lot more interesting.

"This brother," she asked slowly. "Did he have rust colored haired and sideburns? Gray eyes and a blue pick-up?"

Both twins stared at her. "How'd ya know that?"

Wendy bite hard into her lip to keep from laughing. "Cause I go to school with that brother. He's an escaped loony tune too."

"Really? What did he do?"

Both boys leaned in, eyes bright and glittering. And Wendy knew she'd have to watch what she said, least she create a pair of copy-cats. Mentioning the stealing of the secretary's cigarette was out of the question. Besides, the other incident promised to catch their attention more that than anyways.

"He whistled at Connie while she was walking by, and told her to work it."

The boys' jaws fell open like peeled bananas, before spreading with wide delight.

"No way!"

"Way," she assured him.

"Well what happened?! Did Con make him cry?"

Wendy snorted and shook her. "Hardly, he called her a live one and she told to try and find out. Con was in a good mood, wasn't looking for blood."

"She would've eaten him alive if she had," Sam sniggered. But besides him, Eric frowned suddenly.

"Hey, where is Connie anyways?" he asked, looking around as though he'd just noticed their oldest sibling's absence. Which wasn't all that surprising, given that the boys had come in bushy-tailed and red cheeked, only to spend the entirety of the time until dinner sharing the phone to call Bonnie Matthews. Since they'd apparently promised her they would, having swapped phone numbers with their new friend soon after she was de-mummified. It was the longest Wendy had ever seen either of her brothers sit still -albit with the inevitably shoving as they fought over who got to speak first and for how long.

* * *

S*S

Wendy sighed, and gave the all to familiar half-shrug of her shoulder. "Out with friends."

Sam had lowered his fork. "Again?"

"Yes," Why on earth did she suddenly feel so tired all of a sudden? It was barely six o'clock. She'd been perfectly fine earlier today. "Again."

"Why?"

"I don't know Sam," she snapped, sharply, more so than she'd normally ever been with the boys. And it showed with the startlement that flashed across their faces, while thin bodies jump to attention in their seats; blinking owl eyes looking at Wendy like they'd never seen her before. In a way, maybe they hadn't.

Rubbing her temples, Wendy took a deep breath and tried again. "I -look boys. Connie's eighteen, so it's not unusually that she want's to be out and about. That's what teenagers do."

Eric was tapping the rim of his bowl with his spoon (why either twin insisted on eating mash potatoes with one or the other, she'd never know.)

"You don't," he noted quietly, eyes following the constellations on their mahogany table, so quietly she almost didn't hear his words.

She blinked, unable to follow him. "I don't what?"

"You're a teenager, Wen. But you don't go out with friends and stay away from us like we smell bad," Eric told her with childish frankness, neither demanding an answer or expecting one. Merely stating what he noticed around him.

Wendy shuffled. "Well I...I don't want to."

Did she? Surely not...if she ever pulled a vanishing act like Connie did, she'd just spend the whole time worrying whether or not the boys were doing their homework, if Dad had remembered to actually _make_ them dinner, instead of merely setting a couple of the plates; or if he had fallen into one of his silent, unreachable moods -the ones where he wouldn't noticed if the house was burning down around them, with his children inside.

Wendy flinched at the last thought, knowing it could very well be true. She learned that early on, when she'd come home from a rare trip to the mall with friends, only to find her brothers in a panic, trying to put out the dish cloths they'd accidentally set on fire. Cause they were hungry, and trying to make Kraft mac-a-cheese. All while their father sat in his chair, unresponsive to his nine-year-old sons requests for lunch, and then to their shouts as things very quickly went wrong. No. She could never run off, not even for a night. If she did, she'd run the gamble -no matter how ridiculous- that there wouldn't be anything left when she got back.

And _that_ would simply be the end of her, like the closing of a book. The End. There would be no more story after that.

But even if things were different...would she want to be like Connie, out and about and pretending she didn't have family? Honestly...she didn't think so. Even when Mama was here, Wendy had often preferred to stay closer to home, feeling safe where Connie had only felt trapped. It was just her nature. Simply how she was built.

Eric eyed her. "Really?"

"Really," she confirmed, certain this time, and reached over ruffled his hair, before dropping a kiss to it.

"Ah _, Wendy_ ," he complained, wresting out of her grip while Sam laughed gleefully at his expense. Wendy smirked, and took the opportunity to smuggle an identical mark on to _his_ head. She then got treated to the dramatic show of her brothers trying to rake the coodies off their heads. It never got old.

"Can we go Wendy? I wanta burn my hair off," Sam grumbled. Eric nodded beside him, equally disgusted. Wendy rolled her eyes at them, and scrunched up her nose. They scrunched up their own right back at her.

"If you must-" but they were already gone before she could finish the third word. Laughing and bouncing out the three seasoned porch and back into the woods. Wendy knew she probably wouldn't see them again until bedtime.

Like always.

Breathing out, she began gathering up the abandoned dishes, and placed them in the sink to wash later, after she'd wrapped up larger bowel and putting it away to finish tomorrow. Mama had utterly despised the wasting of food. It was as much as anathema to her as taking God's name in vain. It had been one of the most annoying parts of her when Wendy was little. But now she was thankful for it. The ability to make a meal last was more useful than most of what Wendy had ever learned in school.

* * *

S*S

For all she hovered and worried over them, Wendy never really concerned herself with the boys getting themselves ready for bed. They knew the drill in that regard. If they weren't ready by eight o'clock sharp, she wouldn't read to them. Simple as that. And it was quite effective.

Which was why she was sitting primly in the old rocking chair, ready in her own white nightgown while the boys all but out of the bunk beds to listen how Jim Hawkins got pulled into the quest for Flint's treasure. While the pirates stood in the way.

 _"Isin't much use for fools, you may lay to it-that, nor nothing," cried Silver. "But now, you look here: you're young, you are, but you're as smart as paint. I see that when I set my eyes on you, and I'll talk to you like a man."_

 _You may imagine how I felt when I heard this abominable old rogue addressing another in the very same words of flattery as he had used to myself. I think, if I had been able, that I would have killed him through the barrel. Meantime, he ran on, little supposing he was overheard-"_

"Why would he do that?" Sam demand, fired up with angry against Silver on Jim's behalf. " _How_ could he do that?"

Wendy lifted her eyebrows. "Well he _is_ a pirate, Sammy. They would do whatever it took to get the treasure -"

Sam shook his head furiously. "No not that. It's the way he did it. He...he made Jim think he'd like him. Cared about him. He told him nice stuff, like they were friends...and it was just for _nothing?_ "

Wendy closed the book, sensing they wouldn't be get much further than that tonight. "Some people are like that Sam...it's called manipulative."

Her brother's brow furrowed as he rolled the word in his own mouth. "Ma...manippi-"

" _Manipulative_ ," she corrected."...It's when someone wants what they want, and they'll use anybody to get it..."

Her head dropped here, the fingers of her right hand rising up to play with the end of her braid. "And when that person's no longer u-u-useful anymore, they toss them aside. People like that don't care who they hurt."

"But _why?"_

She shrugged helplessly. "Your guess is as good as mine. I don't know...but if I had to guess, it because people like that don't know how to love properly."

Sam and Eric exchanged a look Wendy couldn't read, born of closeness she didn't share with any living soul. It was over after a moment, an entire conversation held in the span of a second, in a language impossible to decipher.

Eric picked at his bed covers. "So...like Connie then?"

Wendy started, shocked good, she had to admit. "Like Connie what?"

"Connie's like that a lot I think. Maniiplativi."

 _"Manipulative,_ " Wendy's mind was still trying to catch up. "What do you mean?"

Her brothers arched their eyebrows at her. Somehow, everyone in the family had that trick down except for Wendy.

"Well...Connie likes to use people like that. Dad, you, your friends you hang out with..."

Sam nodded fervently. "Yeah. She uses people then she loses them. And first she pretends to like 'em. She makes you feel like Jim."

Wendy could feel her face flaming up like it had gotten a full blast of pepper, tearing at her throat and burning her eyes. "And you think...you think she does that to _us?_ "

Eric's gaze dropped again. "She's really good at it. Always was, but now...she's got a lot better."

There wasn't much Wendy could say after that. Mostly because...she wasn't sure she could even argue their point.

* * *

S*S

Thankfully, she didn't have to. The twins dropped off soon after their assessment of their oldest sister, apparently content with having said their piece. For a long while, Wendy just sat their dumbly in her rocking chair and watched them, steadying her world with the rhythm of their breath. When some semblances of common sense returned to her head, she set _Treasure Island_ down on the night stand and stood, watching them carefully before smoothing down their blankets and switching off the lamp light.

The silence of the Allen house was deafening in the darkness, the lights of passing cars her only companions as Wendy filtered down the swirling stairs in gradually steps, silvery-white in the moon's glow, barely even there.

It was only nine o'clock.

Soon enough, she'd made her way back to the front parlor to resume her post as the Ever Watcher in this family. Here was as good a place as any she supposed. Out of all the rooms in the house, this was the that felt the most like home. Probably because Mama would've loved it for it's tall, lace draped windows, calming blue wall paper, and delicate things placed with soft affection on the fire place mantle and the lamps made of star-caught crystal.

Without conscious thought, Wendy soon found herself curled into Mama's reading chair, pressing as far into it's velvet cushion as her slender frame could stand, wishing the scents earth and roses and rain were real, and not only in her head.

She hated nights like this, where the quiet dragged the hours on into the very ends of eternity...and not in the fun way like Isaac Asimov wrote about. Silence and darkness made for lousy conversationalists. But that was what she was stuck with, unless she was willing to wait for Dad to return around eleven...or for Connie to roll back in from painting the town red.

She thinned her lips. Fat chance of that happening anytime before midnight. Connie had always counted on Wendy to leave the backdoor unlock. And to lie to Dad's face, saying she was home in bed when she was really God-only-knows-where.

 _She uses people then she loses them. And first she pretends to like 'em. She makes you feel like Jim._

...leave it to a ten year old to tell you when you're being a sucker. She blinked hard, hugging her knees. Ah God...

On second thought, she wouldn't stay up. She _wouldn't._ With a strange sort of calm, Wendy got up again, and smoothly navigated her way to the porch door, turning the locks to bolt them shut. If Connie preferred to spend all her time outside the house, then surly she wouldn't mind sleeping there either.

Staring a moment at what she'd done, Wendy collected herself and turned back without fanfare, treading up the stairs to her room and leaning hard against her closed door. Well...that felt a great deal more dramatic that it was, she reflected wryly. Certainly wasn't Shakespeare by any means...but it had to be done.

Then she frowned, hands twitching in the folds of her night clothes.

Though admittedly...Wendy wasn't sure what to do with the last few hours of her night now. Her eyes were tired of reading, and she couldn't talk on the phone with anyone now that the twins were in bed.

Unable to think of anything substantial to do, she finally heaved a sigh and just turned back the covers, crawling into bed without much in the way feeling, though she tried to force that back, down into the drawer of thoughts she used to keep her mind tidy. The bad stuff went to the bottom, while nicer things rested on the top, good memories that brush against the skin like ocean water and night air and tasted like tomato-based beef and vegetable stew. She poured over each of these in the fullest extent of their symbolism, blending them behind her eyelids until they swam there in a sleepy river, carrying her along its tide.

The last conscious stirrings in her mind was the sound of an autumn voice with gentle questions, waiting for her answer.

* * *

Review make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay, more of an explorative chapter, but I hope you like it, and what it tells about Wendy and her family. She and Darry will have to form a support group. How to deal with little siblings who don't appreciate you.


	8. New Expectations

Happier than Most: Yep, the twins know the score, their the ones that can see the emperor has no clothes. Fire and embers and water play a big role in this story, keep an eye on it, and their will be repercussions of Wendy ditching the role of ever watcher.

Guest 1: I'm sorry and very touch to hear about your Dad, and I'm glad you found some advise in this story. Hope it helps. Thank for the great review.

Guest 2: Heck yeah the twins are perceptive, and it won't be the last time either.

Guest 3: Yep, Connie and Wendy's relationship, or lack of one will arched over the whole plot. I'm glad you like the way I write the Curtis' cause they'll be more of them coming up

* * *

Chapter VIII

* * *

S*S

Wendy found the gaping mouths and bulging gazes of her classmates comically suitable for the weighty reading being passed out among the desks, as if they'd never seen a book before.

"This ain't a book, it's a g-damn brick," Steve Randle had hissed under his breath, fingering his copy like it was his great grandmother's unmentionables. Mr. Dickens, who had so loved exaggeration, irony and all things ridiculous likely would've have been thrilled, if he could see their class from beyond St. Peter's Pearly Gate. He would've been delighted, she was sure.

" _Great Expectations_ ," Mr. Syme blithely intoned, his tall tweet-form strolling up the aisles formed by his student's desks with a bounce in his wake, hand's folded like a gentleman's behind his back, and his voice adopting the working class accent of an Englishman. "-is the thirteenth novel by Charles Dickens it is, and his penultimate completed novel-"

"Penulti- _what?"_ Beth Mays huffed angrily, chewing her gum harder in frustration while her pretty face pinched, like it had swallowed a rotten lemon.

"-that depicts the personal growth and personal development of an orphan nicknamed Pip," Mr. Syme finished as he returned to his desk, spinning around with nimbleness more expected of a younger man, eyes bright behind those spectacles. "Widely regarded as one of his best works, it's become timeless for its theme of class, wealth, loyalty, and forgiveness."

"And they couldn't've written it in _under_ a thousand pages?" Johnny Cade muttered softly from his seat, eyes mildly bewildered as his hands and shoulders lifted with an old world gesture of wordless exclamation.

"Now I can understand if you feel a little overwhelmed by the size of novel. Rest assure, I want us to really take our time with this, explore every nook and cranky this jewel box has to offer."

Wendy dropped her mouth to the spine of her beaten copy, trying to dam-up the wealth of giggles determined to run amuck; certain they wouldn't be appreciated now, with the ever dropping mood of the class. It was really quite fortunately that looks alone didn't have the power to kill; otherwise Mr. Syme would be trading in his tweet suit for the famed white robe, and stringing up a harp to sing for the angels. The man had to of know this, but what made it so gosh-darn funny to her was the way it ran off the teacher's back like water on a duck's feathers. She was actually a little jealous really.

Though that mainly changed to a sinking sensation as Mr. Syme fished out a stack of white papers out of a mustard yellow folder.

"Your homework to complete over this weekend is to read the first fifty pages and answer the questions in the work packets I'm passing out now."

Oh dear. The class groaned. Which only got worse when Wendy tentatively raised her hand to mention something she'd noticed, as the packets made their way round the room. Well... _most_ of the room.

"Um...sir?"

"Yes, Miss Allen?" Mr. Syme all but hummed back, his eye gleaming in the friendly trickster light they'd all come to know in these first two weeks of school.

"There's um, not enough for the class, sir," she ventured softly, turning her palm over in a sort of apologetic movement, like a beggar asking alms. Mr. Syme's smile only got wider.

"Course there is Miss Allen, since this will be a combined effort with your partner," lifting his head and his voice now, Mr. Syme spoke to the class like Moses come down from Sinai -Charleston Huston could take notes, since Wendy personally would rather deal with the cow-worshipping mob of stiff-necked Israelites, than a roomful of her peers. "And I want too see twenty-five questions in each partners hand-writing, or no points will be given, so I suggest you make arrangements now."

 _Oh dear,_ Wendy thought again, almost distantly as the room rocked with another collective lament against the general tyranny of the school system. But before she had the chance to sort out her thoughts, or anyone had the chance to complain, the bell rang, signaling their liberty. A few kids -Steve Randle and Beth among- just stormed out without a word to their partners, while others departed together, face to face, expressions serious or half-hearted as they started swapping numbers, addresses and meeting places.

A slight shuffle from her right brought Wendy's attention back to her own counterpart, hands shoved awkwardly into his jacket pockets, really meeting his dark gaze for the first time since their introduction. The following two weeks after that had been filled with the information on the course and the expectations for the year, nothing that really required any interaction. So there hadn't been any. And that was when he'd been present _at all_. Cause for six out of those fourteen days, four in one week...he wasn't; the seat besides Wendy empty and lonely looking, without it's blue jean shadow. And the absences quickly formed a knot in the pit of her stomach. When Johnny had first been missing, she'd worried that he was sick. To the point where she felt she had to ask him if he was feeling better, next time he was in class. 'Cause honestly, he'd looked rather awful. Pale and sore-moving, the little tics in his facial muscles giving away the tell-tell signs of a hurting body. She knew, because they were similar to the ones that Mama had shown before her collapse, signs that Wendy hadn't been able to read at the time...and _refused_ to let herself miss a second time around.

With anyone.

In response -after a startled round of blinking- he'd hedge his answer, in a way most people probably wouldn't have even noticed...but living in her house, Wendy couldn't help _but_ noticed.

 _Well, at least he hadn't lied to her,_ was the only positive thing she could take from that...with everything going on with Connie -who was disinclined, at the moment, to exchange even two words with her sister due to her night spent outside- Wendy wasn't sure she'd be able to handle dealing with another liar. And he hadn't lied...he _hadn't._

Hedging wasn't the same. People hedged when they weren't comfortable talking about things, so Jesus and Mary knew the majority of her own conversations in the past year alone were ninety-nine percent just that. She could respect hedging, and understood better than she wished she did...and if the subject in question wasn't directly tied with grades, she'd wouldn't have let it trouble her at all.

Wendy winced. But as it were...

* * *

S*S

Well, someone had to say something. And it really ought to be her, since the main problem now came from her end. But first things first.

"Hi Johnny," she greeted, unbothered with being one of the last two people in the room. Fiddling with her bookbag, she stood just as he was; half leaning against her desk, and squinting in the sunlight that leaked through the window binds. "How...how've you been?"

She considered it progress that while he still ducked his head slightly, he didn't blink this time like he was surprised she was talking to him. Instead his shoulders lifted in a liquid shrug of anything, that dark coal gaze flickering to meet her own cobalt, before dropping again, apparently finding the checkered tiles beneath their feet oddly fascinating.

"Uh, alright," he drawled in that quiet rasp again, the one that still reminded her of autumn...though her brow furrowed with the realization that something in it sounded more... _crunched_ than it had the other times they'd spoken. Biting her lip, she had the sudden urge to offer him something to perk him up -like the unopened Baby Ruth Peggy had given her today at lunch, sympathetic as to how her stupid schedule ran Wendy ragged. She tapped down on that impulse though, reminding herself that if Johnny wasn't comfortable with barrowing pencils and paper from her (though he gotten his own after the first class), food was likely out of the question.

That didn't stop her hands from fidgeting against her skirt, far to use too reaching, offering, working, soothing, and just plain _giving_ to be comfortable remaining still.

"Feeling better then?" she asked instead.

His head lifted at that, fully this time; and maybe it was just her, but the coals of Johnny's eyes lit into warmer embers for briefest half-second, before his shoulders gave another roll, quicker and with slightly more conviction this time. It gently whistled into his voice, like it was trying to show her that his autumn still had plenty of leaves clinging to his trees.

"Better than I was, yeah," he said, with a small nod that went a ways in making her feel better. She nodded at that, pleased, and smiled to show it.

"Good," she answered. For a second, they both let comfortable feel of their replies flutter between them, before Johnny shuffled again, this time his gaze on the ceiling.

"So, um...'bout the homework..."

Snapping to, Wendy felt her own stare widen as it got back on track. Then she wilted, remembering the problem.

"Yeah, about that," she nearly repeated after him, a hand reaching up to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear, before smoothing it flat against her neck. And cause she had her eyes down, she didn't see how Johnny followed the movement. "I um...do you think we could um...try and get through it now please?"

He blinked, and she really couldn't blame him. "Don't we got all weekend-?"

But Wendy shook her head. "Not really. My family's headed out to Windrixville, we're visiting my Aunt and Uncle so I won't be here...now's really the only time...though if you got somewhere to be, I understand."

"Nah I don't," he said, before using his foot to drag his chair out and sit back down. "Might as well get 'er it done now right?"

Now it was Wendy's turn to blink, slightly discombobulated at the ease in which he agreed with her, leaving her with her mouth slightly open like a goldfish. Things...normally weren't that easy in her world. But good Lord if it wasn't a welcomed change up.

She hurried to join him.

* * *

S*S

It was mutually decided that under the circumstances attending them, they wouldn't tried the mad task of actually reading through the first fifty pages. Having read the book before, Wendy knew quite a few answers off the top of her head, and could recited them like the Pledge of Allegiance. Much to Johnny's astonishment that is, and Wendy could admit she took some pride in openness of his mouth and the way his pencil had paused over the paper, midway through answering the twentieth of their separate twenty-five questions.

"Glory hallelujah," he muttered, and Wendy couldn't help but playfully puff up like Prissy, the Looney Toon chicken, had finally laid her egg. "How'd ya _do_ that?"

Giggling, Wendy lifted one shoulder back at _him_ for a change, but didn't decline to answer the boy. "Like I said, I read the whole thing through when I was twelve."

If Johnny was confused before, now he was uncomprehending," Glory _twelve?_ "

"Uh-huh," Wendy nodded. "Start to finish."

It was funny...she'd never really considered that an accomplishment of any kind. She'd read the "brick" of a novel purely for fun back then, quietly falling in love with immature Pip, cold Estella, good Joe Gargery, and Miss Havisham, frozen in time over her heart being broken. In her mind's eye, she could see herself curled up under her covers in a self-made tent, eager to get lost in Charles Dickens' England and the world of gentlemen.

"It's not really that hard you know," she said, twirling her pencil in hand, "I mean...it looks longer than it is, but it's not a boring book. It's...it's like you get to know the characters, like their the people who live down the street that you've know all your life. You want to know and understand what's happening to them. And when they pull through in the end...you feel like _you_ did."

That confusion in Johnny's gaze faded and drew back, replaced with the quiet sharpness as he nodded, a thoughtful expression narrowing his gaze and pursing his lips as he rolled that round his head. Wendy waited patiently at his side, having moved her desk against his own so they could more easily work together. That was preciously how she could see the wealth of answers they had manage to write up in little under half an hour.

What are the names of Pip's parents: _Phillip and Georgiana Pirrip._

What are the names of his siblings buried besides them: **Alexander, Bartholomew, Abraham, Tobias, and Roger.**

Who accosted Pip in the graveyard: _A convict._

Who brought Pip up and how: **His older sister...by hand.**

What way is that really: _Rather harsh and unfair, since she is a temperamental woman._

Who is the other sufferer in Pip's family: **His brother-in-law Joe.**

How is Joe related to Pip: _Look at answer above._

How does Joe treat Pip, though he's only related to him by marriage: **Real good, like they were brothers. They look out for each other. There all they got.**

What is one example of this: _When Pip is in trouble with his sister, Joe will try to lessen the blows...figuratively or literally._

What is Joe's response that the convict ate his food: **That the man can have it, since he needs it more than they do.**

And so on and so forth for another ten rounds, which really wasn't bad for the time they had...or didn't have. Actually...it was kinda fun, searching both her memory and occasionally the pages for answers, partly explaining to Johnny what was what within the novel, and answering his curious question back best she could. All while the warm black of his eye would occasionally catch her own, flickering there a moment before dropping to the paper, and then coming back.

It was rather sweet, and made a small half-smile curl up on her mouth, like a long cooped up cat finally getting too stretch in the sun, purring away.

* * *

S*S

Corse, nothing so nice could last forever. Of that, Wendy knew far too well. Her responsibility to the twins had her keeping one eye the clock, and she repressed a sigh when she saw that she had to leave now, in order to be home in time before her brothers. Johnny was disappointed too, though he did his best not to show it when she told him. He bottled it up like an ouster though, and only nodded as Wendy began to pack up her papers into her bag.

She swallowed a sigh, not looking forward to the walk home.

"So, what'll we do with the rest of the questions?" he asked her. Justifiably too.

Wendy bit her lip as she considered.

"Well..." she drew out slowly. "We only got five each right?"

"Right."

"So...how about one of us copies the next set of questions in a notebook, and uses the book to find them, and the other takes the work packet and does the same? Sound good? We can put the other person's answers in before next class if we get here early."

Johnny nodded and flipped open his dog-ear, well used notebook and bent to start scribbling the questions. His handwriting was legible, though slightly crook, and occasionally he'd miss-spell a word like Wendy would (in her mind, she could see and hear Mama throwing her hands up and growling to the saints in heaven that the devil must've invented the English language and all it's contradictions).

"I don't wanta risk losin' the packet, so why don't ya keep hold of it Wendy, alright?" he asked her, and a strange sort of bubble of warmth sprouted in her toes as she realized that right there, was the first time Johnny had ever called her by name.

"That sounds fine by me," she said, hoping her voice hadn't raised itself to an inappropriate level of giddy like she felt. Apparently it didn't, cause he didn't look up as he finished writing and handed the packet back to her.

"I marked the ones I picked, so ya don't end up doin' 'em by mistake."

"Thanks," Wendy said, tucking the work packet away. Pausing, she waited for Johnny to gather up his own stuff before walking out the silent halls at his side.

"And um..." she shuffled a bit, "Thanks for staying after to do that with me Johnny. I know it probably wasn't what you were hoping to do with your Friday afternoon."

The embers in his eyes lit again, and this time spread to his mouth as it gave the faintest of self-pleased twitches.

"Wasn't to bad," he assured her, maybe just a tad bit drily. "So ya welcomed."

He paused a little before adding, "Have fun this weekend, I guess. With your family."

Wendy couldn't help but brighten with the fact that he'd even remembered, and even gave a little skip to her step.

"You too," she beamed at him.

But as soon as she said it, soon as the words flew from her mouth, Wendy knew something her answer was wrong. Very wrong. Cause the reaction she got...was _not_ the pleasure or annoyed joy she was looking for. Instead of either, Johnny blinked; a brief puzzlement traveling across his tan features like a ragged gypsy caravan. Something in the words didn't compute correctly. Then he caught himself and smiled back at her. A tighter, wry smile stretched like a taunt wire, and offered more irony than happiness.

"Thanks," he said finally, and for the first time, the rasp to his tone turned to winter, his branches cold and alone. Without conscious thought, Wendy's hand started to reach up, to the crook of his arm -to do what though, even she couldn't say. She didn't know. But her partner had turned and left before she could take hold of him, walking back to the east side with his head down, but his shoulders back.

* * *

Review make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay, second interaction, and I like to think some good character development is going on here. Hope you enjoyed.


	9. Family Stories

Guest: I hear ya! Hope you love the update!

Guest: Hear you to! Here you go!

Happier than Most: I'm glad you love the conversation and image of Johnny at the end. Yes Wendy has the urge to reach out and grasp him. Though...she wouldn't know fully what to do if she had him I think. Yeah, I like to think Johnny had a little more confidence before the jumping, little more life. Tried to show that.

Stay Gold: I'm glad to hear it! hope you keep liking my work!

lulusgardenfli:Than you for your kind praise! I love to make images with my words! and it's better when people appreciate them!

songsingsitself : I'm glad you like Johnny's characterization!

* * *

Chapter IX

* * *

S*S

After spending so long in the suburban wild of Tulsa, the rush of green topped trees along the road was a very welcomed, and well missed sight to Wendy's eyes. Even though the weather had gotten more brisk lately, with the wind anxious to get somewhere, it was still warm enough for just the light yellow sweater she wore now, comfortably squished between her brothers, their geography textbook on her blue skirted lap, and their homework on their own.

"Alright," Wendy drew out slowly, running a delicate finger down that map of the United States, tracing the familiar lines of their home as the back of their father's car bopped along the road. "Which of you can tell me which state the Ohio River is located?"

Sam's eyes lit up and he bounced in his seat, pf flyers swinging like baseballs. "Oo! Oo!"

"Sam?"

He beamed, all shinning eyes and confidence.

"It's in California!" he announced, bold as Columbus must've been, when he planted his flag in Hispaniola.

Wendy blinked. Then she had to reframe from slamming the text book against her head.

"Um no, Sam," she forced herself to settle for instead. And watched as her brother deflated like a popped balloon. Meanwhile in the front seat, Connie smirked at the pair of them in the rearview mirror. Wendy glowered at her. _Not a word, Con._

A plucked eyebrow arched from behind her sunglasses. _No?_

" _NO_?" Sam repeated, groaned almost.

"No," Wendy confirmed, trying her hardest to look and sound sympathetic rather than disbelieving. Geography had always been a struggle for the twins, the boys claiming the endless lines on the maps blurred together in their minds. But really - _California?_ The _Ohio River_ in _California?_

Eric, for his part, had puffed up with his brother's failure.

"Course its not in California," he huffed with authority, chin up, hands on his hips as best he could in the limited space. "It's in _Florida,_ dummy."

This time, Connie had some sort of choughing fit, Wendy couldn't stop her head from falling back against her car seat, eyes closing. "...No Eric."

" _No?_ "

"No."

"Ah, man..." Eric moaned, and from the sound had slumped himself. "Then where is it?"

Sam's tone shifted, and Wendy could just picture his gaze narrowing. "I think you're trying to trick us, Wendy. Is it even in the U.S.?"

"Yes, Sam," she forced herself to drone out, eyes still close. And within the glowing scarlet of her lids, she could see her mother with her hand to her forehead, a continual pink mark there from the hours she spent trying to do homework with her sons.

 _"From the stupidity of my children, Lord, preserve me!"_ she'd exclaimed when they answered questions like this, not seeing how it made them flinch in their seats, shoulders hunched, jaws tight. Loving mother she had been, but Mary Allen had been no soft touch when it came to her children's education. Actually...when driven to it, she could put a marine gunny sergeant to shame with her shouting. Wendy knew. Oh she knew. She could remember being on the receiving end of Mama's ire as well...only unlike the boys, she got to grow up, at least enough to realize that it wasn't _her_ Mama had been angry at. And that she hadn't been angry at all.

Just worried.

After all, Mama knew the power of knowing things. All things.

As a child growing up in rural Hungary, Mama fought for the education her parents hadn't believed she needed. After all, Mama was going to get married when she was fourteen, like a good gypsy girl, have children, and take care of them and her husband. What did you need to read and write for, in order to do that? Thankfully, Mama hadn't listen, and snuck away every chance she got, hiding in the tree branches outside a local school; the kind teacher looking the other way to the comical sight. And a few of school boys, flattered by Mama's dark hair and pretty eyes, would let her look at their books.

But Mama's makeshift education had grind to a halt in a hail of bullets, when the Second World War came to her country, her family. And her ability to read and write more than her name had saved her life, making her a valuable worker when the Nazis started shipping Eastern Europeans to their cities' factories as free labor.

 _"Knoving things vas my ticket to Noah's ark, chey,"_ Mama would say, with Wendy's head in her lap, on the very rare days when she would talk about her past -about Hungary, her childhood with her brothers and one sister - seeing things long lifetimes away, yet present in her eyes, equal with fondness and pain. _"My family didn't have that. So vhen the flood came, they drown._ "

Mama never said how, so the shades of their ghost relatives never really solidified in Wendy's mind, lingering in her mother's childhood stories of Princess Firefly and the Boy Who Wouldn't Tell His Secret.

"Wendy?"

She opened her eyes again, the brilliant ruby flames gradually conforming into Sam's face, so like her own. So like Mama's. And just maybe like a few of those ghosts that wandered, grave-less, beneath branches in the ancient forest of the Old World.

"Yes?"

"Is the Ohio in Cap Code?"

"...No Sam."

* * *

S*S

Windrixville was a tried, settled old town; as gentle and slow moving as the cows and sheep that grazed it hills. It's rolled and tumbled hills were occasionally topped with neat white houses half the size of the Allens'. And somehow the cozier for it. Wendy adored rural places like this, with their steady, timeless isolation from the rest of the world, the same families growing up side by side for over a hundred years. And but for the American flag that hung from many of the front porches, and the modern, Western style of clothing on the people, Wendy like to think places like this were similar to what Mama had once called home. In spirit if not looks.

And in family.

Aunt Jeanie was gardening by her picket fence, planting tulip bulbs when they arrived at a ranch house half built into the hill. Just a walk away from the elementary school were her husband, Jerry, worked at as the principle.

 _"Not that the walk does anything to help his waistline,_ " Connie had noted under her breath, when the Allens' had first met their new Uncle back in Washington. At the time, Wendy had very nearly stepped on her sister foot to silence such pettiness. But Mama had still been around, and knew how to beat her firstborn at her own game.

 _"You may vant to keep that in mine vhen you eye up the man's sons, chey. Vhat the Vather is, the sons vill be,"_ she'd remarked drily; the one person who could make Connie go beet red from mortification -all the darker since it was true. Con had spent the entire wedding steadily eyeing up Jerry Wood's grown sons from his first marriage; like they were poorly wrapped Christmas gifts. Admittedly, Wendy had some understanding on that note: dark haired as Elvis, and dashing in their military blues, Peter and Joseph Wood were dreamboats. More than that, they were kind, dancing with both sisters at the reception. While jokingly excusing how Wendy stepped on both their feet.

 _"Don't worry about it hon, you're a great dancer,_ " Joey had assured her, cutting off her stuttering apology. " _You just need to find the right partner."_

 _"One that don't make ya look like half shoe-elf,"_ Pete had added, reaching over from his dance with Connie to ruffle Wendy's hair. _"But when ya find him, have him talk to us. Joe and I will have a few things we'll want to make clear, okay?"_

She still wrote letters to them, ever since they left for Nam; proud to have the Woods as her cousins.

"Hey, howdy hey big brother," Aunt Jeanie called softly in greeting, before launching her coverall clothed self at Dad, with a momentum that made it ease to picture a little, pigtail haired girl doing the same deed when she was a child. Then also as a teenager, when Dad had returned from the Europe...the _only_ one of Jeanie's three big brothers to returned from Europe. And she buried her face into Dad's shoulder the way Sam and Eric did with Wendy after a bad dream.

"How you've been Frank? With everything?"

"Just fine Jean."

Wendy shuffled, suddenly finding the dirt beneath her feet fascinating. So she didn't so much see as sense the air of disbelief that laced Aunt Jeanie's movement.

"That's good to hear, Frank," Jeanie said, in the calm, pacifying way Wendy would. The way that said the matter was dropped for now, but not forgotten.

Dad huffed, and rolled his eyes just a little sadly, pulling back to lift his sister's chin. "Enough about me, Jean. How have you been? That husband of yours treating you right, or do I need to talk to him?"

Jeanie actually giggled, a happy glow of pink blooming on white cheeks that never seemed to tan. "I'm wonderful Frank. Absolutely wonderful. Life here...it was exactly what I needed."

Then she paused, and carefully ventured a hand across the gasp between them, and took hold of her sibling, grasping him by the arm.

"Maybe...maybe its what you need."

Dad cleared his throat, and suddenly spread his arm to usher his children forward -while at least his daughters, since the twins had run for the tire swing as soon as the door was open, shameless abusing their privilege of being only ten.

"Con, Wen, come here and greet your Aunt."

Connie released a long suffering sigh that Wendy pointedly ignored, a task made easier as a grin of delight spread across Aunt Jeanie's impish face.

"No, really?" she gasped, coming forward to cradle her younger niece's face in her hands. "Oh Wendy, just _look_ at you."

Wendy blushed, and offered a shy grin. "Hi."

Jeanie laughed out right and pulled her closer, swinging left and right like a child with her teddy bear, before dropping a kiss to Wendy's head. "Frank! You didn't tell me how much she's grown! Two years, and you have a young lady on your hands!"

Dad laughed a little awkwardly, running a hand along the back of his neck. "Wendy been my hands, sis. I don't know how I'd of got along without her these past few months."

Jeanie blinked at that, though she was careful to smile. "I see."

Releasing Wendy, the older Allen girl turned to her other niece, who'd smacked her chewing gum, as if daring her Aunt to try and give her the same affection. So she could toss it back like salt over her shoulder. Jeanie didn't take the bait.

"Connie," she greeted, hand on her hip and looking the younger woman over. "My, you've gotten trim."

Con shrugged, and tugged at a curl. She still had her sunglasses on, and after a moment, Jeanie gave up trying to see pass them. Instead, she opened her picket fence and gestured the family to come inside.

"Jerry will be back in an hour or so. When he gets here, we'll take to the best spot in Windrixville for a picnic."

* * *

S*S

The best spot in Windrixville ended up being a giant hill crowned with an abandon church, lonesome and sad looking against a the gold lighted sky. The Allen-Wood family clustered in a grove of breech trees, on a table that bent and strained under their weight. Admittedly, it hadn't looked like much when Uncle Jerry had driven them there, piled in his old pick up truck, but in the changing light, there was something eternal about the spot, and the wide tumble of the sky above.

Plus at the moment, Uncle Jerry was Wendy's favorite person in the world, by reason of him being willing to help the twins with their history homework, so Wendy wasn't going to be questioning anything he said for the time being.

"Okay boys, hear we go," the hefty man announced as mozied over to a sizable rock under the shade of a tree, reminding Wendy of her icon of a round belly Asian figure Joey had sent her from some shop in Saigon. The resemblance was uncanny, right down to the mild, enlighten look of an educator that came over Jerry's face as the boys sat crisscross before him, history books ready.

"Which work is ol' Tom Jefferson remembered for?"

Both boys thought about it for a moment, then Eric lifted his hand. "The Emancipation Pro-co-mation?"

Jerry blinked. Wendy winced. Connie snorted. Dad and Aunt Jeanie were busy talking among themselves and didn't hear.

"Well...no," Jerry said slowly after a moment. "It's the Declaration of Independence boys."

"Oh..." both twins echoed, before dropping their heads and scribbling their answer. Meanwhile Jerry collected himself.

"Alright...can either of you tell me what helped lead up to the War Between the States?"

Sam brightened, and sat up. "Sure! It was when Indians didn't want to drink tea anymore-"

"Cause President Lincoln taxed it too much," Eric added. "And the Indians got mad-"

"And throw whole crates filled with the stuff into the Boston harbor!" Sam said excitedly. "That made people in the North really made at them-"

"So the Indians had to head South and the army chased after 'em!" Eric finished proudly.

There was a brief silence over the rest of the family once the boys were done, with identical blank looks claiming the grown-up's faces, like they weren't sure if they should laugh or not. Wendy brought her knees to her chest and tried to be as small as possible.

"The only thing headed South is our intelligence levels," Connie stated, bored.

Jeanie arched a brow at her.

"Really, cause I remember a certain little girl who was convinced FDR was the first president," she remarked. Connie was quiet after that.

Meanwhile, Jerry had cleared his throat and adjusted his glasses. "Okay, let's take this from the top..."

* * *

S*S

'Bout a hour and a Civil War lesson later, Wendy's family was back at the Woods' residence; Jerry, Dad, and Connie lounging on the porch, while the boys were back on the tire swing in the fading light, trying to hang off it at the same time.

"Sam, Eric, come on, be careful-" Wendy started to call out to them, as she and Jeanie came out of the house with plates of sandwiches for the kitchen. But Uncle Jerry waved her off with a chuckle from his rocking chair.

"Ah their fine, honey," he started to say. "A little fall wouldn't do nothing but teach 'em to get right back up."

Wendy still squirmed with disfavor, but held her peace with a "ohh". But it was Jerry's house, and his son's tire swing -so she had to admit he probably a little bit more about raising boys than her. Thankfully, not long had pass before a thoughtful look came over Jerry's face, and he gave a sharp whistle to the twins.

"If the Stars and Bars come up in front, I'll tell 'em a story," he tempted. Those were magic words, and immediately the boys were conjured before them like Indian spirits.

"What kind of story, Uncle Jerry?" Sam asked, flopping down on the step besides Eric, hand on his chin while his brother lay on his stomach.

Jerry clicked his cheek, and folded his large hands over his lap as the music of crickets started up from the lawn and the forest behind them. "Well lets see now...you ever hear how the town of Windrixville was founded?"

The boys shook their head. "No sir."

Jerry hummed, nodded, and his eyes gleamed in the lamp light. "Well, I'll tell you it started way back before the Civil War. There was a family called the Winds up in Bleeding Kansas, headed by a preacher named Jedidiah. He came to the territory young and strong, mighty as a twister. But as the years rolled on, his strength waned, and he put away his dreams of conqueror the world for the Lord, and took a bride name Annie, golden and pretty as a lone sunflower on the prairie. Annie gave Jedidiah four strong boys -two sets of twins-"

"Like us!"

"One boy for each direction of the Wind. Their names were Samuel and Matthew. Then Luke and John. When they were young, there were no closer brothers anywhere. But nothing stays young forever, and when they were grown, the world around them was changin'. The trouble between the States was brewing, and the older boys favored the North, while the younger favored the South. And Lord, it nearly tore that family apart, each wind blowing away from his brothers. Wasn't the first time this happen in a house, though nothing like that had been since for a while."

As he talked, Jerry's hands seem to take a life of their own, the shadows of his fingers dancing on the white rails of his porch and blending past and present with their shapes.

"When war was declared, the older brothers joined the Union, while the younger linked up with the Confederates. And they stayed in it, from beginning to end. And paid the price for it, when their divisions clashed here in Indian territory. Bloody brutal fighting, and even when it was over, the survivors didn't know if they were among the live or the dead. Old Jedidiah Wind came down from Kansas to look for his boys among the battlefield, walking this way and that. He found Matthew and Luke already gone from this life, but didn't give up hope for Samuel and John -his firstborn and his youngest. He keep looking, looking, looking..."

"Did...did he find them?"

"He did...as it turned out, they had found each other after smoke cleared, and limped themselves up to a church on the tallest hill around...you may know it..."

Wendy cocked her head. "That church we were at?"

"The very one. Jedidiah found his remaining boys, and declared that he would stay in this spot to praise God for leaving him two behind, when he had the right to take all four. Samuel and John felt likewise graced, and helped their father start up a town."

Jerry slapped his hands to his lap in a finishing gesture. "And here we are today."

* * *

S*S

Eric cocked his head. "Is all that really true?"

Uncle Jerry smile. "Well if it isn't, it ought to be. Don't you think so Sam?"

But Sam didn't answer. From her place next to Aunt Jeanie, Wendy frowned.

"Sam, he asked you a question."

But Sam didn't answer her either, his gaze captured by a car coming at the house from the blacken road. He pointed.

"Whose that?"

For a moment, none of them could response, only watch as the headlights grew brighter and brighter like twin souls, until it was parked right outside the picket fence and the lights went out. And they could clearly see the military insignia on the door.

Somewhere behind her, Wendy heard a glass shatter. Whipping her head around, she took in the sight of Aunt Jeanie staring, white as a sheet, as the door to the car open, and a uniformed man stepped out. And the local priest along with him.

"Jerry-" Jeanie choked out, like some of the broken glass was lodge inside her throat, ripping up her lungs. Her husband didn't seem to hear her; to lost in the shock as he stared at the men walking up to his house, pass his sons' now empty tire swing like it wasn't there. But he got up all the same, moving slowing down the steps and across the yard to meet them, Dad at his side.

Wendy felt a small hand tug at her skirt.

"What's happening?" Eric whispered, unsure, but frightened enough to reach for her instead of Sam.

"I don't know," she responded instinctively, reach down to run her fingers through his hair. Together, they watched as the four men meet in the middle. Minus the guns, it could've been a John Wayne film, the way they all stood facing each other.

"Hello, Jerry," the priest greeted, in a soft tone, and nod of his head. One Jerry returned.

"Hank."

Nothing more was said out loud in the next few moments, but something unspoken was defiantly said. Cause even from the back, those on porch bore witness as Jerry Wood crumpled like a burning building.

"Which one?" he asked, his voice drowned in accepted reality, accepted despair.

Father Hank swallowed hard, and wetted his lips. Then he reached out, and clasped the other man by the shoulder.

"...it's both of them. I'm so sorry, Jer."

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay I hope you all enjoyed this -as well as Sam and Eric's mad lib history and geo homework. As well as the deeper backstories on Wendy's other family members. Plus, if you haven't just, Uncle Jerry is the man at the church who was to fat to get inside and help Pony and Johnny.


	10. By blood and by Bond

Gia467: Glad you've joined the fun! Hope you enjoy the ride. And Johnny my favorite charter as well, so I glad I'm writing him good.

Guest: Yes, I love the WW2 era, and its a crying shame it's not mentioned more often. I'm glad you like the backstory on Wendy's mother and Windrixville. Theres a little more of it here.

Happier than Most: A master of words and story telling?! Wel I have to say, I sharpen my style to compete with yours, so thank you right back. Oh Jerry indeed. This chapter explores how the rest of the family take it. And I think you'll love the twist at the end.

lulusgardenfli: a huge fan of background stories? then you'll love this chapter. And gut punch is what I was going for, so thank you.

songsingsitself : Don't worry about Jerry, he's stronger than he looks. I hope you like this!

* * *

Chapter X

* * *

S*S

You never forgot the sound of a broken heart, once you've had the misfortune of hearing it. No banshee, thunderstorm, or power on earth could rival it, imitate it. It was like listening to someone being murdered...and surviving.

That was what the Wood's cozy little home sounded like now, from every corner; by the power in eight measly little words becoming a morgue without a body. The terrible, keening wails from Uncle Jerry's and Aunt Jeanie's room battled with Sam and Eric's, who were giving off sobs of their own; together creating an unholy, mismatched, _un-silly_ symphony. It was music from hell itself.

And horrid as that was, Wendy honestly though she preferred it to the utter silence that came from Connie's room, where she had quickly retreated and shut the door the moment Father Hank finished delivering the death noticed for their cousins.

Wendy's head throbbed, and she leaned against the railing of the staircase, paused in her journey to bring lavender tea to some of the afflicted. It had all happened so fast...

The moment that awful truth flew out of the Pandora's box, all pandemonium erupted in their little porch gathering. Both Uncle Jerry and Aunt Jeanie rendered helpless in a matter of seconds, shattered from the people they were into something slacked jawed and wretched, fumbling in the dark. If Daddy and the Father hadn't been right there to catch Jerry, Wendy thought there was a strong possibility that her uncle would've dropped senseless to the ground. And in accordance to his weight, he still wounded up there, only more slowly, gently. Like he was being lowered into his grave.

Aunt Jeanie was given no such manner of luck. After relapsing into a ear-splitting shriek of denial, she'd crumpled out of her chair and to the porch in a hysterical mess, which in turn set off the twins. Partly from shock, partly from fear, and partly from receiving, far to soon, the reality of how _short_ life could be. Again.

And Wendy herself wasn't much better...or of much help, she was ashamed to admit. Stunned still and rendered mute, one of her hands tried to reach for the twins, while the other fumbled for her aunt, her rattled brain unable to figure who or what to help first. And that wasn't even touching upon the _how._ Connie was no help -big surprise there - having already vanished inside the house, moving stiffly up the stairs for her guest room.

Thankfully...Dad had known what to do, and wearily took charge. And in that moment, the grieving man that had ruled him from his wife's death yield to the shadow of an eighteen year old medic, who still fumbled in the foaming surf on Omaha beach, defiantly patching up the holes bullets had torn through bodies not a day older than himself.

"Wendy, take your brothers inside and put 'em to bed. Stay with them a bit. The Father and I will take care of your Aunt and Uncle out here. When I need you, I'll call for you. Go."

With only a jerky nod, Wendy had done exactly that, pulling herself up by what strength she didn't know, pulling Sam and Eric up after her. One arm around each of their shoulders, she pulled them like tug boats in an unthinking path behind her. It was a blessing not to have to think.

And another blessing that it was dark already. That made ignoring the ghostly images of Peter and Joseph that align the walls, marking their growth, all the easier. Wendy had to ignore them. If she look at any of them when they were Sam and Eric's age or younger, it just might kill her.

* * *

S*S

Getting the boys ready for bed ended up being surprisingly simple...their tears making them more obedient than the church belles on a Sunday morning. Trouble only came when they all painfully remembered that the twins were suppose to sleep in Pete and Joe's old room. Still filled with their things, and sheets, and the model airplanes still strung up like lynched men from the ceiling, in their never ending circles.

Without a word, and the mere halting of their steps in the hallway, they point blank refused. Wendy couldn't blame them; so they all ended up in her guest room instead, the boys tucked in her bed side by side like two bawling sardines (it looked like that meant she be getting the window seat for herself).

They seem to forget she was there fairly easily, turning to each other, and Wendy envied their quick escape from the world. Didn't appear that she be joining them soon. She couldn't until she made sure everyone else was being taken care of as well. Well at least...that had been the plan. But at the very moment she stepped out her bedroom Wendy instead bore witness to the sight of Dad as he half carried, half dragged, Aunt Jeanie to her own room down the hall; hushing comfort to her as she continued to shatter. The names of Pete and Joe bled from her mouth alongside other names, her brothers' names, the pain of two wars merging together in an open, gaping wound that had perhaps never closed in the first place.

"Wendy..." Dad said, still in medic mood, still impossibly, wearily calm. "Go downstairs and make tea. Strong lavender tea."

So of course she had. Because as long as she was doing something, anything, she didn't have to think. She didn't have to remember. Remember how her mouth had hung open at how tall her new cousins were. How bright the playful gleam in Pete's eye had shone, eyebrow lifted in challenge. Or how laughter sniggered between Joe's teeth, spunky as a mongoose.

 _Don't think,_ she thought, as she fumbled back down the stairs, once more ignoring the photographs, the thought serving as both a mandate and a prayer. _Please God, don't let me think..._

A prayer that picked up speed and desperation as she walked past the living room on the way to kitchen, only to stop in numb horror at the scene before her. Somehow, Father Hank and the military man had moved Uncle Jerry back into the house and sat with him in somber triangle, like Job and his friends. At first Wendy thought they were silent, which, given the circumstances, struck her as odd. She knew how the route was suppose to go: the _there, there_ , the _it's okay,_ the _one day it won't hurt so badly..._

Then she realized, after silently ducking into the kitchen and starting the tea, that they weren't silent at all. Or at least Father Hank wasn't, since from his age speckled hand dangled the ancient beaded necklace of their faith, intone with the rest of the trinity a prayer for the departed souls. And the defiant Latin somehow carried all the pain a human being could feel and suffer since time immemorial. Carried in a way the English language simply couldn't hold, and modern words couldn't even try. Carried in a melodious, humming praise and promise of the Eternal, and a petition in that Eternal's mercy.

 _"Glória Patri, et Fílio, et Spirítui Sancto. Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, et in sćcula sćculórum. Amen,"_ Father Hank nearly whispered, and against conscious thought Wendy's mind, horned from dozens of careful lessons at Mama's side on her own necklace, immediately, automatically, translated. _Glory be to the Father,_ _and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning is now and ever shall be, world without end. Amen._

 _"Amen,_ " both the military man and Jerry intoned back, voices rumbling in unison.

 _Amen,_ Wendy mouthed silently, as she went about adding the lavender. Don't think...was there a more perfect way to not let yourself think?

Meanwhile, the Father continued. _"Requiem, requiem aeternam concedat ei, Domine, et lux perpetua luceat lux, requiescant in pace. Amen."_

 _Eternal rest,_ _grant them eternal rest, O Lord, and let perpetual light shine, rest in peace. Amen._

Tea done, Wendy set the prepared cups on a tray, and tried to creep back out both without being seen, or seeing something she wasn't meant to. On the first note she was successful given that none of the men even looked up. On the other...well...

Not so much, and Wendy felt the contents of her stomach roll as she got a shadowed look at her Uncle's face. Now obviously, she had seen grief before. She seen a husband grieve for wife, and the joy and love and companionship that lead a young immigrant girl to declare on her wedding day that "my lover is mine and I am his." She seen herself and her siblings grieve for their mother -yes even Connie. Grieve for the strength and safety and connections to the past that died with her.

But until now, she'd never seen man mourn his own offspring. And had never realized just how blessed she been for it. Carved into testimony upon Jerry's face was a truth as universal as the rosary's Latin: that to lose a child was to die yourself, only to have the burden to go on living.

Fast as she could without spilling the tear, Wendy ran for the stairs, away from her Uncle's -and probably any parent's - personal trip to hell. Pausing only on the middle step to force herself to breathe, to remind herself that she still could.

* * *

S*S

It wasn't a good night. And for the lonest time, Wendy wasn't even sure if it would ever end. Somewhere around three in the morning, she had even begun to entertained the thought that this, maybe, was what purgatory was, her own personal purgatory; filled with endlessly trips up and down the stairs with so much lavender tea, that if she never saw it again, it would be too soon. Certainly she'd never be able to smell it again without thinking of Aunt Jeanie's almost compete breakdown -to the point where Dad finally added a sedative to the drink in order to give his sister a chance to rest.

Wendy wasn't sure how she felt about that -somehow, watching her Aunt twitch and gasp and hiccup in her sleep, where she had no control, was worse than watching her sob wildly while awake. But what was done was done, and their was nothing to do but wait for morning.

If it ever came...

Though of course, it did. Cause it had too. After Father Hank and the military man left, and Dad was finally able to sit down with Uncle Jerry, quietly talking to him in the low way men did when they wanted to get all the fact's straight. And to Wendy's misfortune, she was back in the kitchen again, refilling the tea cup she left outside Connie's closed door, intending on having some for herself, and instead hearing every word.

"I don't think there's gonna _be_ a funeral, Frank…how can ya have?...told me there's nothing left...totally disintegrated..."

Yep, that did it. Air rushed out of her lungs and blackness swarmed her head, so much so that when she came too, she was on the ground, hands grasping the legs of a chair like it was her last teeter to a kinder world.

In a silent scramble, Wendy picked herself up and shuffled to the checker draped back door, slipping outside into the cold dewy grass that soaked into her socks, like the ground itself was weeping along with everyone else. Doubled over, wheezing, yet tearless, Wendy felt her arms tighten themselves around her waist, as if to keep her from braking in two from the plain terror of it. She had pleaded with herself not to think, but how could that one not dominate the mind?

 _Disintegrated_ …what in God's name had happen to her cousins?

Of course she could make an educated guess...after all, both Dad and Uncle Jerry had told stories of friends who'd jumped on a hand grenade to save his buddies...that hadn't left much of them behind.

The most fire power she'd ever seen were firecrackers in the street on the fourth of July. Fun and bright. Glory, but how much power would it take blow a person clean out of existence? And leave no trace?

Thank God Sam and Eric hadn't heard that...they _loved_ fireworks and all the color and noise. So did she for that matter. At least she did. Now a part of her wonder if the next time the Fourth rolled around, if she'd be able to think of anything other than explosions in a death infested jungle, on the other side of the earth.

Had Pete and Joe even been together? Or...had it happen separately? Had they been alone? Did anyone even know?

By this time, Wendy had slumped back down, landing on the wooden step that cracked under her slim weight, fingers curled to her mouth to hold back the swell of misery at the thought. Surely God couldn't be that cruel. If He had to take them, He'd take them together. He had too.

Then she shifted, angry, eyes closed to collect her thoughts. And what was this talk of no funeral? Dis... _disintegrated_ or not, a funeral wasn't just a body - _b-bodies_ \- lowered into the ground, covered in the earth that had created Adam. It was a celebration of all the things that happen before that moment. The good that you did, the things that you learned, and the people you loved. The journey you took. Pete and Joe's had the strange privilege of fitting many long miles in a short amount of time - twenty one and twenty two years. And what time they got had been in service to others. That _had_ to be honored. Had to be.

Wendy didn't care if she had to organize the whole thing herself. Just as she and Connie had to do for Mama, basically, Dad being rendered incapable of offering help. So it wouldn't be the first time. She had the experience. Her cousins _would_ be celebrated. Hell or high water.

* * *

S*S

She wasn't entirely sure when or how it happened, but when Wendy opened her eyes again, the sky had lighten to a mournful pinkish gray, the crescent moon and stars still flickering in the firmament like weak candles. And from her ear to her ankle, the left side of her body ached. Apparently wooden steps weren't the ideal place to nap, cause even sitting up managed to _hurt_.

From behind her, the backdoor creaked open again, to her surprise, Uncle Jerry blinked down at her. "Wendy? What are doing out here?"

She bit her lip, before shrugging sheepishly. "Just...thinking, sir."

Then her eyes looked back up, soft and cautious. "What about you?"

Jerry sagged a bit, heaving a primordial sigh straight from his belly to his nostrils like the breath of life, his fingers moving to pinch the place between his eyes. But then he dropped them, lifting his mournful gaze to the horizon.

"I was thinkin' about takin' a walk back up to the old church...just to get out...and if you like...I wouldn't mind the company."

He didn't have to say more. Wendy was already on her feet, heading back into the house for her shoes.

* * *

S*S

It was a good thing nobody in their right mind was up this early to see them coming down the lonely country roads. Because they were a sight: with their wrinkled, unchanged clothes, bloodshot eyes, and unseeing steps. They'd frighten all the neighborhood kids back to their mothers should any see them now. But in a small mercy, the roads were deserted, and the way to the church unhalted.

When their journey was complete, Uncle Jerry crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against an old fence circling the site of their family's picnic. He motioned Wendy over to his side, then sweep a wide palm out over the vast ground the covered. Glory it was a pretty, picture perfect view, the little town with it red and brown roofs next to a broad field of sleepy, rippling grass. So peaceful.

"It's beautiful," she commented quietly, feeling that such a sentiment couldn't go unvoiced.

"Yes it is. But it wasn't always. That's where the battle that took Jedidiah Wind's sons took place, sweetheart," Jerry informed her, his voice slipping into the teacher's mode he'd used when helping the twins with their homework. Wendy blinked, and did her hardest not to look at him oddly, confused as to where this history lesson was coming from.

 _Maybe it's his way to cope_ , she reasoned. So politely, she just nodded. It was interesting after all. "Oh?"

"Oh," Jerry echoed with a sage's nod, before it deepen to something else, as the sky lighten further, almost ready for the sun. "You know, hon...I didn't tell the full story last night. Didn't want to give your brothers any ideas."

 _That_ caught her attention. "What do you mean Uncle Jerry?"

The man straighten his spectacles, and cleared his throat. "Well...the story technically not finished yet. It won't be until this summer."

Wendy's head was starting to hurt again. "But...that all happened in the Civil War..."

"Yes. June 23, 1865, under the Cherokee Brigadier General Stand Watie of the Confederate States. But this summer will be 1965. A fully century," Jerry seemed a long way away now, fingers flexing drumming. And the way he said it, Wendy could almost see the men in union blue and stone gray charging across the peaceful grass to bludgeon each other. "People who remember been keeping it in mind, on account of Jedidiah's Curse."

It was funny how such a small word could drop a boulder on a mood, sinking it like the Titanic. Something terrible twisted in Wendy's gut at the mere thought, and her own fingers twitched to make the sign of the cross. Mama had believed in curses, the Old World Evil Eye that never let you escape the Devil's gaze. Connie and Dad thought it was nonsense, by Mama had insisted it wasn't. And Wendy was incline to agree, her mother's words of warning coming back to her.

 _"There is evil in this vorld, chey. Evil beyond vhat men, of there ovn inclination, can create. It is evil vich does not sleep. It watches, lidless, breathed in flame, vaiting to find a soul damaged enough to vork it malice through, to touch the most souls it can with its poison. It vill come to that damaged one vith lies that speak sympathy. Offer ungodly power and say it's comfort. And vhen the evil is done, that damaged soul will be as consumed as the rest. For the only vay to undo the evil of a curse is by blood. Human blood, Wendy -"_

"Curse?" she said weakly. As if things weren't bad enough...

Jerry nodded, oblivious, still in teacher mode. "Yes."

"But...you said Jedidiah was a preacher. A man of God. Why would he curse someone?" she protested.

Jerry released a bitter laugh. "Wasn't someone...it was the whole dang town. You see, the battle he went looking for his sons at was...horrific. The photographs in town archives made it look like a smaller-scale Gettysburg. It looked impossible that anything could come out of it alive, and the whole area was in mournin'...and they were getting angered at how Jedidiah refused to stop looking for his other two boys. After all, what made his sons so special from theirs? So they mocked him, insulted him, hurling stones at him. And according to the legend, the devil was in Jedidiah's ear the whole time, asking why he tolerated this, that such people deserved to be punished. Well...I imagine old man Wind was already at the brakin' point -hard to blame him for that - cause he gave into despair and curse the town, saying 'So is this how you comfort mourning fathers? Then perhaps you'll be just heartless to each other. I say to you, as my children were consumed in fire for the defense of your land, so shall your littlest children perish in flame hotter than hell, so that angels weep and demons turn their eyes.' "

Wendy blanched, nearly falling off the fence in shock. "That's... _horrible_."

"Of course it is," Jerry readily agreed. "The things human beings do when their in pain always is. But there _is_ a bright spot to it."

Here, his gaze tried to turn wry, but instead looked one shade from desperate. "There always is in these things Wendy. _Always._ When Jedidiah found Samuel and John alive and well in this here church, he was overcome with remorse. Fell to his knees, and prayed three whole days and nights for God to undo what he had done. Without stop for nothin'. Not food or sleep. The whole time, the devil was still beside him, mocking and threatening him. But Samuel and John joined in, and the devil was forced to leave 'em be as an angel appeared. He told them that their pray was heard, but the curse would be used to test the town they would help build up. In a hundred years, that fire would come, but as the church had sheltered the Wind boys, another pair of brothers -as stained with blood and guilt as Samuel and John- will be there to bear the test in the town's place, and redeem themselves."

Again, Wendy heard her mother's voice. _"And only through the shedding of blood can the evil of a curse be undone._ "

"Oh," she said faintly. She was surprised she didn't squeak.

Jerry still didn't noticed, his gaze still in the distain, seeing something Wendy couldn't. "You have no idea how many pairs of boys the sheriff had to chase away from this place over the years. It's almost become a rite of passage at this point. Pete and Joe...they use to sneak out, and camp here to try and speak to Jedidiah's ghost. Swore to me the saw the ghost of boys in blue and chatted with em..."

Some ancient weight seem to make Wendy head to hard to hold up, and it lowered into her hand, the sting of wetness finally leaving her eyes as her breath hitched. "...Oh God...I hope they can find their way home, Uncle Jerry."

Mama's Old World ghosts stories said that when soldiers died, they lingered where they'd fallen. The thought that could be Pete and Joe -a thousand miles from home- was too awful, too awful.

A giant arm suddenly closed around her, strong as a grizzly bear, bringing her close, smoothing her hair.

"Don't you worry your head none about that," Uncle Jerry told her gently, though his own eyes glimmered with a wet sheen. But the morning sun finally began to brake across the counter top of the sky, golden as any liquor. "My boys got strong souls and nothing staining them to hold 'em to this earth. So don't you worry about it..."

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Okay I hope you all enjoyed this -obviously there some high power stuff going on here, some enrichening of they story, depth wise.


	11. Life Goes On

Guest: Thanks, I will

Guest: Thank you, I take pride in my discriptions, they are the bread andbutter of the story.

Mood: Im glad the scenes sparked in you, that the goal as a writer! Thanks for your insight, I'm so glad you can draw comparisons to real life.

Happier than Most: I love how you single out your favorite lines. It's the hight light of your review. I dearly enjoy it.

lulusgardenfli: A work of art!? Thank you thank you! There's nothing better than that.

songsingsitself : Johnny back at the end and we'll get his pov next chapter again. Promise!

* * *

Chapter XI

* * *

S*S

Dad stood in front of the twins, his hands on both their shoulders like a captain at the helm, one that hadn't been grasped in sometime now. Sam and Eric just looked bewildered, eyes darting to each other secretly, in their own Morse code under their father's watch, comparing notes, sharing intelligence. Trying to find the right course of action. And beside them on the porch step, Wendy's heart hurt at how unfamiliar the boys had become to Dad's direct attention. Such a contrast to what Uncle Jerry had with his boys.

"Wendy and Connie are in charge," he told them for the fifth time this morning, ever since she and Uncle Jerry had come back from their walk. And found everybody but Aunt Jeanie up...and the car packed with Con already in the driver seat, staring stonily ahead. Ready to go...though Dad would be staying behind, to try and gather up the pieces.

"You obey your sisters like you would me. When they tell you to come in, you come in. When they say its time to go to bed, you go to bed. Understood, boys?" Dad commanded, calm and clear, medic like, like he was telling someone how to keep a bandage on a wound as blood and bullets flew around them.

Sam and Eric nodded hard in brisk unison, though they shuffled closer together, like they were trying to become one person.

"Yes sir," they repeated themselves, standing straight and stiff in air, trying to make themselves taller.

Dad breathed, tension relaxing from face somewhat, at the boys' easy obedience. His hands moved from their shoulders to ruffle fondly, lostly, through the rich raven tangle of their hair, making their heels picked up like petted kittens.

"Good," was all he said. Then he turned to Wendy, and she tried to pretend she didn't noticed how her brothers' shoulders dropped with the return of the status quo. Connie's fingers had tighten the wheel of the car, and the edge of the window, but she still stubbornly refused to look.

"I'll only stay for a few days, honey," he said, pulling his second born close, so she could hear the sad beating of his heart. "A week at the most...just to make sure they have things under control here. You can handle things, can't you Wendy?"

"Of course," she answered, forcing her features into some broken rose window of a smile, clear and still for his shake. It was what she was needed to be at the moment.

Dad gave her a sad sorta grin before letting her go. For a moment, he looked for Connie, but her drumming fingers loudly advised against the futility of calling to her.

He sighed. "You better get going then."

"Okay Dad," Wendy whispered back, before turning around, taking her brothers by the hands, and tucking them into the back of the car, before sliding in herself.

She'd barely had time to pulled her own two feet in as her sister floored the gas petal, and flung all her siblings against their seats with startled yelps. With the speed of a runaway train, the Woods' house -or what remained of it- was a swirl of dust in the rearview mirror. Windrixville soon followed, folding into the emerald gold shroud that centuries of ghosts, and the blood of fallen boys, had wreathed about it like blooming poppies.

Wendy flinched at the thought, and trembled with it, finding that she couldn't let go of the twins' hands until Connie -at a less frightening acceleration- had driven them over the cover bridge that marked the town's limit, ending the power of the curse to reach them.

Once that matter was taken care of, she let her gaze sweep to the fields sheltered behind wooden fences that stood like uneven crosses, like those that marked ones' place, while high in the sky, the horned larks still bravely singing, flies.

 _Goodbye Pete_ , she mouthed silently, to the soft land Uncle Jerry was certain held their souls, if not their bones, by reason of their love. _Goodbye Joe...Godspeed._

* * *

S*S

It was late afternoon when the Allen children rolled into the driveway of their house, quietly unloading their bags and bringing them into the house, up to their rooms. Wendy sighed as she put _Great Expectations_ on her comforter, a pointed reminder on how she'd planned to wake up early today and get it down before going of with the twins to explore the town. Well, that had certainly changed. But it still needed to get done.

But not today. It was only Saturday after all. Today...she could take it slow. They could all take it slow, relax, eat together, think together...

Yes...they could take it slow.

Then she sighed again. Or at least, the others could take it slow. Wendy had to get started on dinner.

So while Connie disappeared up the stairs into her room, and the twins looped around outside, halfheartedly sprawled on the grass watching the clouds, Wendy got to work; boiling leftover chicken in a pot on the stove, while pulling spices from the cabinet and flavor from the ice box. In between that, she used her free hand to flip through the _Great Expectations_ work packet, pencil in hand.

Hey, if she was going to be busy anyways, might as well multitask, right? After all, the more she worked, the more she spread her thoughts about, the less time there was for them to dwell on crippling wound her family had taken.

Uncle Jerry would be fine, she felt...any man who could find the strength to comfort his niece, rather than the other way around, mere hours after losing his children was clearly steady in spirit. And hopefully capable of taking care of Aunt Jeanie...God...it had hurt to see her break like that.

Not that Wendy blamed her, far from it...losing one piece of heart was horrid enough. She couldn't imagine losing four pieces to violence. And that wasn't even counting the pay toil age and time demanded from all upon this earth, from the moment Adam and Eve ate that stupid apple -or whatever it was- and doomed all the human family to rot and decay. Wendy huffed, and used her spoon to push the chicken corpse down, under the broth of its own bones. That story had always bothered her, even when she was little...the sheer unfairness of it, the selfishness.

Really, you had a paradise, a perfect home, someone wonderful to spend time with, and the Almighty tell you its yours, so long as you leave so-and-so tree alone.

And what did the parents of mankind do? Ruin it, ruin everything for their children, before they even had a chance. Selfish, selfish, _selfish._

Wendy bit her lip, an old thought guiltily making its way to the forefront from where it had formed in her five year old mind at Sunday school. Truthfully… Adam and Eve together had always reminded her a little bit of her sister. Just a bit...

Upstairs, Connie's Elvis record suddenly blasted to life, announcing that the Warden was throwing a party in the county jail.

...Or a lot.

Then snap of the shower turned on, dimming her irritation a bit. None of them had taken the chance to wash before leaving Windrixville, so she really could blame Connie for that...though...the fact that she'd turned on Elvis meant that Connie had likely brought a chair in there. She and the twins wouldn't be washing up anytime tonight.

Or possible the next day...

* * *

S*S

Apparently, it also meant that Con wouldn't be joining them for dinner...again. Honestly, it was a little ridiculous. No, _more_ than ridiculous. It was nearly eight o'clock, the water had to of run cold by now, and Elvis had been restarted twice. But Con was apparently to good too grace them with her presence.

Sam dinged the rim of his bowl with against his spoon, scrunching his face up pass the crystalize stars dangling above their heads for light. "Jeez Wendy, what's she _doing_ in there?"

She chewed particularly hard on a piece of chicken, not caring that it was steaming hot in her mouth. It kept her from saying something particularly unladylike in front of the boys. "I don't know Sam. I really don't know."

Something in her tone was frozen, despite the heat in her mouth, colder than Wendy herself had ever heard it, and there was the echo of Mama in the edge of her tones. The clipped, snow bitten edge of loosening temper, of harsh flying words in three separate languages. From the way their mouths dropped open, the twins cleared recognized it. Eric scooted his seat away from her a little, staring like he'd seen a ghost. Sam swallowed.

"Okay then," he said in a small voice, returning to his soup with newfound interest, seemingly fascinated by the piece of chicken skin adrift in the delicate china. For a while, they ate in silence, no more lively than the distorted reflections of themselves in the glass cabinet panels. Wendy paused and stared at the trapped images for a few hard seconds before she couldn't stand it anymore.

Then the record suddenly turned off, followed by the shower. Soon after, the clank of those prison manacle heels came the stairs.

And the moment Connie turned the corner to peek out the window, dinner was officially over. Sam stared. Eric blinked. Wendy felt something similar to the atom bomb go off in her head. Her sister wore a red skin fitting blouse and black pants, like something Ann-Margret wore in _Viva las Vega._ Add that to expertly curled haired, gold hooped earrings, and dolled up face, and it was clear Connie had no plans on staying in the house.

"...Con," Wendy said, in a forcibly level tone, standing up and gradually making her way around the table. "...What are you wearing?"

Pausing, Con carefully let her fingers released the curtains she pulled aside before rolling her head their way, her body following suit.

Arching that brow, the oldest Allen made a sweeping motion with hand to her attire.

"I think its kinda obvious hon," she answered. Wendy sucked in her breath.

"Okay, maybe..." she allowed. "-but what I mean is... why are _you_ wearing it?"

That brow arched higher. "Why do you think? I'm going out."

It took a moment for that to translate from her ears to her brain, the connection suffering from some miscommunication.

"...You're going out."

"That's what I said sweetie."

"Out."

" _Yes_ Wendy. It's Saturday night and that makes it alright -you know...little something called the _weekend?_ "

That atom bomb was growing larger now, with every word Con spoke.

"I know what the weekend is Connie!" she bit out, face reddening.

"Do you?" Con droned, chin dropped, but nose somehow lifted to the air. Her weight shifted, like a gunslinger from the old west, though her hand curled around her hip like that in and of itself was a weapon.

"Yes!" then she blinked. "But that not the point!"

Con laughed, and tossed those curls, their volume dangerous, challenging. " And what is the point, as you so elegantly put it Wen?"

Bamboozled, Wendy fumbled for her train of thought...blurting what first came to mind.

"The point is Cousin Pete and Joe just died last night!" she cried out, hands waving through the air, glaring hard. "How'd you feel if you kicked the bucket and we went out to party! You don't _do_ that."

Connie's green gaze narrowed.

"First of all," she bit back, "We only _heard_ about it last night. Don't you know anything about telegrams? It probably happened weeks ago, while we were all doing whatever and didn't even noticed-"

 _"Connie!"_

"-And second of all...you don't stop living when you lose someone. I thought you knew that. You all just want to live in a vacuum whenever something like this happens and you need to cut it out. Newsflash...it's going to keep happening. Again and again. Life goes on and I'm getting on that train for the ride."

She gave Wendy a short once over, tightening her purse strap. "You could to hon, if you actually had a guy that wanted you."

Her fingers had clenched together so hard, her nails had been driven into her palms, the pain a short relief from the burning in her throat. But she wasn't without ammo in this shoot out. But her aim became shameless.

"Life's not about it just _going on_ Con," she hissed, as their brothers stared, dumb struck, eyes darting back and forth between them. "It's about loving people...giving it and getting it back. Can you do that? Do you even know how?"

Con's eyes flash and those volume of curls seem to turn into snakes.

"You don't even know what love is Wendy. And I'm not about to take advise on it from someone who hasn't even had their first kiss yet," she spat back. "You can talk to me when you do!"

Worse thing probably could've been said...and probably would have been said if a familiar car horn didn't blast from the driveway, and Wendy's already lowered Expectations of her sister dropped again as she recognized it.

Sam and Eric were under impressed as well.

"That's the jerk who would leave Wendy alone at the fair!" they exclaimed. "Your going out with _him?"_

"I'm not taking relationship advice from you shrimp either," Connie finished drily, whipping the door open and slamming it shut behind her.

Seeing red, Wendy stormed to the front, and locked the door behind her sister.

* * *

S*S

"...She's wrong you know."

Blinking, Wendy looked up from her page in the _Lord of the Rings_ to meet Eric's solemn gaze, peering out from under his blankets and pillow as he lay swaddled in bed.

"Your supposed to be a sleep Eric," Wendy reminded him softly. It was ten o'clock now and Sam's snores proved how long of a day it had been. Eric ignored this and sat up more.

"But she _was_ wrong. Connie I mean. You love the most out of any of us." He looked down now, drawing circles on his comforter in long loops. "I think that's why you're Dad's favorite."

His tone wasn't even wistful. Just sad. And Wendy's heart broke as she reached out to smooth his hair.

"Oh Eric...no honey, its not like that. Really its not. Dad, he...he loves us all the same. He just needs me more now."

Eric shook his head. "No Wendy...but its okay. I don't mind. Neither does Sam, so long as we got each other. Con doesn't need anyone, so she's good I think...who knows, maybe she's the lucky one, not caring about stuff."

"It's not that she doesn't care," Wendy fumbled, hoped she sounded like she believed the words. "I think she just finds it easier to pretend she doesn't."

Eric pressed his lips and pointedly glanced over at her book. "What's that funny print?"

"What?" Wendy looked down at the page she was on -where Aragon was telling the story of a Elf Princess who loved a mortal man. "Oh it's a poem."

Eric held out a hand. "Can I see it?"

Wendy had no objection. She'd noticed that on the rare moments she could get Eric by himself, he enjoyed reading and thinking as much as running around with Sam. And he was fairly decent at it, way ahead of his brother. (Sometimes, it made her wonder if Eric purposefully struggled with homework just to be at the same level as his twin.)

But now, his finger carefully traced over the prose -the poem, while beautiful, wasn't difficult to read at all, though some of the imagery might be over his head. Gosh, even Wendy found that she needed to keep a dictionary handy when-

"Wendy? What does this mean?"

Case in point. "Let me see."

She read swiftly: _The Sundering Seas between them lay. And yet at last they met once more. And long ago they passed away. In the forest singing sorrowless..._

She was quiet for a long moment. "It...well, in the story that's being told, the Princess and her hero were sundered. Which means they were separated from each other."

Eric gaze turned anxious. "How?"

Wendy shrugged. "Probably because of the adventures they had together. I mean, listen, _Through halls of iron and darkling door. And woods of nightshade morrowless._ Things were threatening the kingdom, so they had to protect it. And well...they ended up on opposite sides of the ocean somehow."

"But it all turned out okay in the end," she added hurriedly. "It saids they found each other again."

Eric looked at her funny. "Yeah, but then they _died._ "

Well, he had her there...still.

"Well...that's better than nothing," she said softly. "It saids they were happy until then."

Eric was quiet for a moment. "I wish it could go back to the way it was...when Dad was Dad, and Con was Con, and...and Mama..."

"I know baby...I know."

* * *

S*S

Connie never came home that night. Which meant Wendy had no car to take the boys to Mass at Our Lady of Guadalupe church. Thankfully, she knew the bus could get them there, though they had to leave earlier (Sam and Eric didn't much like that part) and walked down to the bus stop...which happened to be nowhere near their neighborhood (after all, everyone had a car, why would they need something like a bus stop? She was going to _kill_ Connie...)

Their clothes were clean, and nice all around, the boys with their hair comb and button shirts while she wore the same white dress they had when they first arrived. But Wendy was thankful she hadn't dressed them nicer when an older boy at the bus stop, leaning against the sign and looking them over with dark eyes under curly hair, picking his teeth with his nail. She seen him in school...occasionally. His last name was Shepard. Which was ironic, given that his smile was that of scrawny wolf. Sam and Eric just gawked at him, almost admiringly.

Eventually he seemed to figure that they didn't have anything worth bothering them about, cause he shrugged lazily and strolled off. And Wendy let out the breath she hadn't know she'd been holding. But the time the bus came, she all but hauled them aboard. ("Ah Wendy!")

The Guadalupe church was small but well crafted, made in a almost Spanish, southwest style with a bright roof. Wendy like it here, more than the other churches she sampled after arriving here. It beauty wasn't in it size but it detail, carefully tended since the last century. The high cloistered ceiling protected a simple white decor, and the aspe had a vaulted dome where hung a wooden cross with the Savior upon it, while before it a soild alter with a cloth drapped over it -

"So let me get this straight Pony, this is where you an' Johnnycakes _choose_ to spend y'all Sunday mornings?"

Wendy froze in the middle gilding her brothers into the nearest pew, and their ears perked up as well.

"Hey...that's Bonnie's brother!" Sam whispered. And indeed it was, though Wendy had to blink a few times. Cause honestly, church was one of the last places she would've thought to find Two-Bit Matthews. But there he was. And he wasn't alone. Trailing besides him on his left and his right were Sodapop Curtis (apparently off bed rest) and Steve Randle, who scowled at the interior as if it had personally offended him, though Soda looked mildly curious...for about fifty seconds.

Bring up the rear, and looking like they wished they weren't, were Ponyboy Curtis and Johnny Cade. Actually, they were looking like they were wondering why they'd bothered to come at all. Pony seemed to be having a premonition, cause he was forlongingly gazing up to the Christ and mouthing pleads for either aid, mercy...or maybe just to be put out of his misery.

Well...this would be interesting.

* * *

Reviews, reviews! Sorry it took so long. Real life and all. I wanted to end this chapter on a high note from the last. Lots of drama going on, so what do you think of Wendy and Connie hitting the breaking point? Up next while of Johnny's POV of the famous church disaster. Nothing worse than your friends making you look terrible in front of your crush.


	12. Aftermass

Guest: I hope it is.

Mood: I'm glad you feel it realistic, that's what I'm going for.

Happier than Most: Yep, and that's what Connie wants, to be in another world from her family. Wendy is much more traditional and the conflict is delious...I hope you like my take on the church scene

lulusgardenfli:philosophical depth? You spoil me rotten, and just in time for my birthday! This is a Johnny chapter, so I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter XII

* * *

S*S

"Jesus please, if you ever had any mercy, kill me. Just kill me now -"

"-Ponyboy knock it off, ya ain't helping none," Johnny muttered hotly under his breath, dropping lower into his seat as the younger boy thumped his reddening forehead against the back of the pew again; a position he had assumed from the moment Soda had tossed a paper wad -torn from the church pamphlet, not a Bible - at their friends, and Two-bit and Steve used that as an excuse to start World War III, sniggering and horsing around...dead in the middle of homily. "And ya gonna give yourself a headache if you keep doing that."

As usual, Pony didn't listen, to wrapped up in making something bad even worse. He groaned, and thumped his head again.

"Why did we bring 'em?" he whined, as another paper wad went flying, and more eyes from around the church looked at them. _"Why?"_

Johnny breathed out, and slouched lower, figuring it would be cruel to remind the kid that this was _his_ great idea. Pony, trying to help Soda escape their mother's lockdown a smidge early than neassary, since the man was about ready to go crazy with cabin fever. But Mrs. Curtis wouldn't hear of it...until her youngest innocently suggested letting Soda accompany him and Johnny to church (she couldn't due to a doctor's appointment). Starved for some non-familial company, Soda had invited Steve, which had lead to Two-Bit deciding he just _had_ to tag along, o' course...glory, he supposed they should be thanking the saints that Dally was back at Buck's, sleeping off one hell of a hangover.

Then he snorted, shaking his head. Nah, the only time Dallas Winston would ever be in a church, without setting fire to it for kicks, would be at his funeral.

"I don't know Pony..." he said in answer to the kid, despite knowing the question was...what was the word? Not-serious? Rhetorical? Yeah, that was it. Something like that. "-just try to ignore it."

Pony turned to stare at him, giving his poor forehead a break as his jaw went slack. _"Ignore it?!"_

From the way the youngest boy said it, it was clear there was a higher chance of man walking backwards on the moon. Which meant there would be no reasoning with him, when he got like this.

"...Nevermind..."

His own head dropping, deeply tan fingers, the result of mixing Italian blood with Indian, reaching under his shaggy bangs to rub off his own feeling of growing shame.

As the son of a one hundred percent Sicilian war-bride, attending Mass were some of the few decent memories Johnny could recall spending with his own mother, before she gave up going to church when he was nine, and her drinking became to bad too stumble out of bed (or off the floor) on Sundays.

He still went though...why...well...he wasn't too sure. At first it was habit, and the hope that if he kept it up...then maybe one day, Mariella Cade would slide into the pew next to him, immaculate in the bold red lipstick and best green dress that once caught a soldier's eye, in dusky, stone ally streets of Palermo; before coming to the crashing realization that just because you married an American, didn't mean you were gonna be rich. And that it could be just like old times, his hand sliding into her's.

That hope hadn't lasted long.

And it wasn't long before the thoughtful, gentle image of a young mestiza woman, clothed in a pink robe and cerulean mantle with a stomach full of promise, became the thing that drew him by it's lonesome, like water in the desert, till he meet Ponyboy and Mrs. C at least; her high cheek-bones, delicate features, and unbraided black hair not looking so different from his own, making the scripted engraving under the portrait all the stronger:" _No estoy yo aquí que soy tu madre? Am I not here, I who am your mother?"_

Nowadays...well, Johnny supposed he came for himself. Church was...well it was different that just about any place else. It didn't sugarcoat how mean the world could be. How nasty things could get. How hard. It just...promised that it wasn't for nothing. That it wasn't a waste. And that neither was he.

His mouth thinned. No matter what his parents said. Or how often they said it. Being here reminded him it wasn't true. It _wasn't._

He folded his arms tighter around himself, before breathing out, relaxing. And yes, ignoring the idiots they had for friends. Tuning 'em out. He was good at that. Had a lot practice back home, just to be able to go to sleep.

His eyes wandered. Another thing he always liked about church, this one in particular, was the saint stories -as he called 'em- that aligned the walls and widow panels; perfectly getting the story across for a little kid who couldn't read, but nevertheless took comfort in the realization that he wasn't the only person the world knocked down, around an' then some.

And that there was nothing stopping him from getting up. Just like they did.

So all in all...this was a pretty piss poor way to repay this place, for the hope it had given him. Just because he wasn't banging his own forehead didn't mean he didn't feel it just as heavy on his shoulders.

Which got heavier when Steve knocked over a hymn book during the _Canticle of the Turning,_ with a bang that echoed all the way to arched roofs above, and brought every eye in the building to them in stunned silence. Glory, maybe Pony right to pray like he did, Johnny groaned to himself, just about crawling under the pew beside his friend, as Two-bit sheepishly waved at the crowd, flashing them the hippie peace sign.

 _Glory._..this couldn't get worse could it?

At least that was what he thought, till the eruption of kids' laughter brought something much, much worse as their minder tried to hush them.

"Sam! Eric! Knock it off!" a sweet voice commanded in an embarrassed huff, somewhere from the right of them, turning Johnny's stomach into knots and making him feel kinda green. Ah God, come on, it couldn't be. This wasn't a Soc church...the occupants here were mostly their kind and middle classers...there was no _way._..

But a quick look from under his bangs proved that it was; cobalt blue eyes and delicate features framed by a mantle of simply parted black hair, even as those features got more pinched and red as people turned to look at them while she tried to corral what must've been her brothers.

For a moment, his black and her blue meet across the aisle, and he saw bewilderment, shyness, and embarrassment flash by in a succession of revelations before she broke it.

Yep, it just got worse.

* * *

S*S

Them moment the Mass was ended, Pony bolted from their pew like it was the opening at the Kentucky Derby. And left the rest of them to scramble after him, out the doors of the church.

"Pony!" Soda called out, trying to catch him, still limping a bit on his ankle, though it was hardly noticeable now. "Hey Pony!"

"Whoa, hold 'em horses, Ponyboy," Two-bit whistled out as he jogged ahead and nabbed the kid by the back of his shirt, reeling him to the group like a tout on a line. "Where's the fire at?"

Pony just gaped at them, face as red as his hair. "What -I don't- you- I cant- _I can't believe you!"_

Steve sneered, and spat lazily on the sidewalk. "Need to be a bit more specific kid."

"Specific?!" Pony's eyes were shooting green fire. "Oh, I'll give you specific! I'll never be able show my face in that church again! There's specific!"

Soda's brows shot up and he raised one hand in that pacifying gesture Christ was always drawn with, in paintings and stuff. "Take it easy Pone, we were having a bit of fun -"

"It's church! Not the drive in or Buck's! It's ain't the place where y'all are suppose to be havin' fun!"

Two-Bit cocked his head like a dumb-as-rocks Labrador who didn't get why chewing on the drapes was bad, chuckling while fishing out a cancer stick. "Really? Cause I had me a grand ol' time."

"I noticed," Pony gritted out. "I'm sure Mom will think the same thing when she hears about it."

That made Two-Bit choke on his own smoke, while Soda and Steve went very still.

"...You wouldn't," Soda said.

Pony tossed up his hands. "I don't have to, you idiots! Mom works with half the women in that church! You think the next time they see her, they'll just forget all about this?"

From the dawning look of horror on the three face's before him, the answer was a resolved _no._

 _"...She-et..."_

"No kiddin'," Pony lifted his chin. "Sucks to be you."

Then with as much dignity as he could muster, he marched away. Two-bit followed in utter anguish -an angry Mrs. C meant no place at her table.

"C'mon now Pony, lets be reasonable 'bout this like gentlemen-"

"You know any?" Pone drawled back, enjoying himself now.

Steve didn't bother, but went to catch Two-bit in order to have a ride to his shift at the gas station. Soda lingered behind, his ankle unable to match the pace, and walked beside Johnny. He rubbed his neck.

"Guess we didn't think that through all the way," he admitted, though even that didn't stop a grin from dancing over his face. He waited for the shrug or shoulder roll that would show that Johnny agreed...but it didn't come. Soda blinked and cocked an eyebrow at the smaller boy.

"Johnny? Hey, earth to Johnnycakes-" he started off, following his buddy's line of sight to see what was so darn enticing...and felt that grin turn shit-eating when that answer left the church in a white dress, olive skin, and pinched exasperation as she tugged along her still laughing brothers.

Tossing an arm around Johnny's shoulders, Soda inclined his head.

"That the gal ya paired up with, Johnnycakes?"

"...no..."

But he'd hesitated just a second too long. Soda's grinned widen all the more as he looked up for a second glimpse. After a moment, he nodded his verdict.

"Cute," he complimented, slapping an open hand against Johnny's jacket. And she was -a little on the petite side for his taste, true, and not much in the chest area either...but that dress looked mighty nice from the backside, and her hair was dark and soft looking while her skin was sun kissed. "You said her name was Wendy, right?"

By now, Johnny's face was a toasty cinnamon color as he shrugged and tried to wiggle free. "Knock it off man, it doesn't matter."

Soda sniggered lazily. "Sure it don't. And Sandy and I are just friends."

Suddenly, Johnny went still and tossed an irritated look dead in his eyes, "Yeah, and friends was what I was hopin' me and her could be, before today. How'ya feel if Pony and I pulled that shit when you were tryin' to get Sandy's attention, huh?"

That took the wheat-haired boy's grin off as the words set in.

"Shit, I'm sorry Johnnycakes," he said softly, meaning it. "I didn't think of that."

The boy's dark eyes were on the pavement again. "Like I said, it doesn't matter."

* * *

S*S

"So you're back, _ragazzo,_ " was what his mother said by way of greeting, cool voiced and tight lipped, nose crinkled like he smelled as he closed their door behind them. He gave a shrug back in answer, hating the name she had for him...true it only meant _boy_ in her native Italian, but Johnny hated how it had the word _rag_ in it...which was what he sometimes felt his folks saw him as. Something to use then toss aside.

His mother hadn't called him by his own name since he was nine. Even his father did that occasionally, even if it was only "John".

He ducked his head and rolled his shoulder in an indiscriminate answer. It was safer that way. He just had to get to his room...

But his mother wasn't done.

"Did you at least get the groceries," she demanded irritably.

And he really should know better by now, and most of the time he did. But sometimes he slipped and made the mistake of thinking his mother was reasonable.

"You didn't ask me to get any groceries..." he started slowly-

-Only to duck as the plate she'd been cleaning -without soap- went flying at his head, shattering behind him.

 _"Ragazzo inutile!"_ she spat, flying forward and sizing him by the collar of his only jean jacket...the one she got him for his fifthteen birthday. Grabbing it the way you'd grabbed a dog's leash. _"Spreco della mia carne!Quello che è buono per andare a fare la spesa, è così?"_

Times like this were when Johnny really wished he'd never took the pains he had to learn his mother's Italian...it had sounded so beautiful when he was younger, but after learning what was being said...yeah.

As she continued to rant, Johnny just tuned it out, plotting in his head the fastest way to get to his room, grab his notebooks for school and get the hell out of there -if it wasn't for that, and the fact that some of the homework for tomorrow wasn't done yet, he wouldn't have come back tonight...his parents were always the meanest on Sundays.

" _Mi stai ascoltando, piccolo topo?"_ she hissed, and in a move so fast he barley saw, her hand flew at his face, and Johnny felt two of her nails burn against his cheek.

* * *

S*S

"Johnny! What happened to you?"

It was clear Wendy had been dying to ask that, that was obvious from the way her mouth had dropped open when she walked into class and got a good look at his face (Mr. Syme eyes had narrowed as well, but he knew the score). The scratches had gotten pretty nasty looking over night...as Pony had been kind enough to tell him this morning, before Two-bit thumped him on the head with an order to hush up.

At least Wendy had waited till class was dismissed. And she look real tuff today, in a light red dress and blue sweater with a little black belt, hair down and parted smoothly, perfectly framing two pools of cobalt that looked at him with a concren only Mrs. Curtis ever showed.

Suddenly his throat was a little tight, and his stomach rolled a bit when her fingers reached up, clearly intending to slide under his jaw, and turn his face. On instinct, he leaned back and away, and Wendy lowered her hand at once.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, face reddening. "I should've have-"

Well if that didn't make feel like a piece of shit.

"No, Wendy," he fumbled, hand flying to his hair, gripping the back of his neck. "It's not-I mean-"

Christ Jesus, sometimes he wished he was Two-bit or Soda -they could always turn stuff like this around and have everybody laughing. But him? All he could do was breath out in frustration and slap his hand to his jeans.

There was silence between them for a beat. Then Wendy partly lifted her hand again, palm out.

"May I?" she asked softly. After a moment of letting his eyes flicker from her hand to her face, Johnny nodded, despite himself.

Her touch was warm as it skimmed around his broken skin, testing the swelling with an air of having done this before. Or at least seen this done before. Quick and professional like. After a second, she cluck her tongue.

"Well it doesn't look infected, so that's something," she gave her verdict, touch moving to brush his chin before lowering away and folding against her skirt, and Johnny found that his skin missed it.

Which was something in and of itself, since normally, he didn't like being touched all that much outside the gang. And even then he didn't like it if he couldn't see it coming. Back when they were little kids, it had taken him a long-ass time to stop jumping halfway to China and back everytime Pony tossed an arm around him. Nowadays he was better.

But nobody in the gang ever thought to ask before touching him. They all just assumed it was enough that they never touch him with purposeful violence. Which it was of course, he didn't mean-

Meanwhile, Wendy kept talking.

"But I would still put something on that if I were you...and seriously Johnny, what happened?"

"...cat scratched me," he finally said, rolling a shoulder.

Wendy blinked.

"...must've been some cat," she said flatly.

"A hellcat," he agreed, figuring he might need to take some lying lessons from Two-bit. "Real angry one. More of a tiger actually."

Her mouth was twitching. "Oh? Did it escape from the zoo with a lion and a bear or something?"

"Or something, yeah," he said. "Though I donno about a lion or bear. But if she was lookin' for Oz, she missed the yellow brick road by a mile."

That got her giggling, and brought a tentative smile to his own face when her eyes gleamed with mirth. Maybe Soda and Two-bit had rubbed off on him some after all.

"Maybe that for the best..."she hummed, thoughtful. "After all, Oz wasn't really there, all the people on the yellow brick road had to find what they needed themselves."

"Yeah..." he said, cause wasn't that the truth? Wendy shuffled slightly, and bit her lip.

"If...if you're not doing anything today..."

* * *

Reviews, and I'll update sooner. You know on the ninth this September, I turn twenty one...older than all the outsider kids, and boy if it doesn't put things into perspective on how young they are. I got a whole new appreciation for Darry -babysit my teenage cousins sure, but I can't imagine rising them. Yeah Wendy didn't by that excuse by a long shot -she has two little brothers after all. Johnny needs to take lying lessons from Two-bit. How was his thoughts, his point of view on things? Spically church his mother...hoped you liked her backstory. I figured if she came to the hospital to see Johnny, their must be a small part of her that has that biological pull- wrapped and twisted though it is, towards her son.


	13. Just Some Smiles

Mood: Thank you for the birthday wishes! You too!

Mood: I'm glad you like the church sence and then Johnny and Wendy. More of them here.

Happier than Most: I'm glad you love the backstory on Johnny's mother. and of course the Church Sence...now that was fun to right. Wendy and Johnny's sence isn't done, so Johnny will be channeling more of his inner two bit and soda here.

lulusgardenfli: their inner thoughts and psychology...yes that to me is the bread and butter of the story -you can thank my love of Tolkien for that, and for my skill at putting spirituality into my work. Each charater I a soul that sees the world differently than the others. I try to subtly show that. Thanks for the birthday wishes!

Ishouldbedoingmyhomework01 : update comingup!

Lovetoread75 :More Johnny and Wendy coming up, from his pov!

bookgirl18 : hey book girl! glad you like it!

* * *

Chapter XIII

* * *

S*S

"-Would you," she rolled her shoulder, eyes hopeful but trying not to be. "Like to head down too the library? And work on the project?"

Johnny blinked. The library? As in the public anyone-and-their-grandmother could see 'em there? That library? And she wouldn't mind, wouldn't be embarrassed...not even after the church service from hell?

But in the moments it took 'im to try and unravel the knots on his tongue; Wendy started to fidget, more and more, hands tugging at her own fingers while her shoulders hunched.

"I mean, you don't have too..."

"Wait, no I don't...I mean sure I'd...I'd like ta, I just..." Johnny swallowed, hands running for the trenches of his pockets. Then he tried again. "Ya don't...ya don't mind any?"

She perked up, and bit her lip again; with a giggle her hand tried to catch.

"If I did, I wouldn't have asked you, right?" she said, wryly. And Johnny had to bend with that logic...and felt his neck warm up while doing so.

"Uh...right," he admitted sheepishly. "Yeah..."

They retreated to themselves after that, like the safe zone in the game kids played, shuffling like a New Orleans deck of cards. And somewhere in the corner of his mind, his conscious -which sounded horrifyingly like Two-bit- began to tug at his ear and kick him.

 _Come on, Johnnycakes, grow a pair..._

 _Okay, okay._ Well here went nothin'.

A whole lot of nothin'.

"So...you want to go..." he gestured, motioning with his head towards the door. And knots that had tightened in his gut loosened with relief when his partner beamed. At him.

"Love too," she answered, before following him out into the hallway, which by this time, was deserted as the Sahara. No kid in their right mind wanted to hang around after the bell sounded if they didn't have too, Soc, Grease or other. Which was good, as it increased his chances of getting to the library with all his primary limbs attached to their sockets, walkin' with a girl like Wendy. Nevermind if it was for school. Or to a place 'bout as excitin' as a Hank William's record.

None of that would matter -if he got seen, he could kiss himself goodbye. Honestly, he was little stunned at himself...and if the gang could see 'im now...

He snorted, grinned slightly. Well, they probably have to take another look, just to make sure it was him at all. Aside from Ponyboy, he was their most careful member -he didn't do this shit, didn't take the risks they did. Not at school, where it was only a milder form of what he dealt with at home.

* * *

S*S

 _I got to be some kind of yo-yo, doin' this..._

And it was hard to deny that...it was crazy. Completely.

He gripped his notebooks tighter.

...But he ain't never been a coward. He'd of died from fear a long time ago if that had been the case. He'd died long before he ever let himself be one either.

Even if his gut was still squirming as they headed out into the sunlight, down the stone paths that bleed out from the school...though she gave him a odd look when she noticed him steering them 'way from the few Socy congregations holdin' court in the parking lot.

Hey, he planned on making it to sixteen. Passed sixteen, if he was lucky.

"Um...sorry we gotta walk," he finally said, fibbing to her unspoken question. "I don't got a license or nothin'..."

 _Or a car..._

"It's okay," Wendy said. "I can't drive yet either you know..."

She smiled then, and smiled again -and somehow didn't notice him tripping over his own damn feet- while looked around them as the autumn trees, their tips starting to look like Ponyboy's freshly used paintbrushes, red and gold-green. "And it's nice out. Might as well suck it all in while we got it, right? It'll be gone soon..."

Johnny nodded carefully at that, following her gaze -which in an of itself felt odd. Normally, his eye level never even left the cracks in the pavement. Made it easier to disappear. To be invisible if ya needed to be.

"I guess your right," he said. And wince. That's the best he could do? Unfortunately, his inner Two-bit must've gone to sleep off his hangover, cause nothing else was coming.

But Wendy just nodded and was content to keep walking, as so long as that was the case, and she didn't mind, then Johnny didn't mind walking beside her nether.

* * *

S*S

The way to the library was a familiar one to Johnny, though he had to say, he was looking forward to this one more than normal. No offence to Ponyboy, but Wendy looked a lot nicer running up those stairs than his pal did, blue eyes matching the unrolled sky above.

"Coming?" she asked.

"Right behind yeah," he called back, following. Given a moment to get ahead by the wind pushing black hair in front of Wendy's face, he beat her to the door and pressed it open with his back.

"After you," he said, his inner Soda apparently up and running the show.

And he got that smile again. For _him._

"Thank you," she said, going in, and waiting for Johnny to join her.

The public library of Tulsa wasn't anything special, just rows and rows of books as far as the eye could see, calming in its stillness and quiet; which was why he tagged along with Pony on his semi-weekly pilgrimage's here. So he ended up leading Wen to the spot he and Pony like, with comfy chairs around a low table that the rested their stuff on. And he watched her as Wendy began fiddling with her bookbag, pulling out the needed supplies.

He shuffled in his usual seat.

"Uh...Wendy?" he finally asked. "Can I ask you somthin'?"

She stopped rifling though her bag, and sat up, pushing hair behind her ear. "Ask me what?"

"After..uh...church..." and he could just feel himself heating up and turning red again. "How come you're still okay with me?"

She was staring at him. "Why wouldn't I be? You and the other boy weren't doing anything bad. And honestly...the craziness did me and my brothers some good...we had a um...hard weekend."

His head cocked. "When you went to your aunt's."

She started playing with her fingers again. "Yeah."

"What happened?"

Her eyes were on her bag again.

"...family trouble," she said after a moment, a hand going up to touch the cross necklace she wore. She said it softly, the way you said prayers on Good Friday. And that was more than enough to have him sitting back, and looking her over in alarm. He couldn't help it. In his neighborhood, "family trouble" was the polite way of saying someone in your house was beating the tar out of ya. It was a open, naked little secret that danced like an Apache round the fire in their streets.

On this brisk autumn day, Wendy was lightly covered, though she had slipped of her blue sweater one they had sat down. So he could see the olive length of her arms, smooth and unblemished with anything but a birthmark near her elbow. And her neck and her face looked fine too. Just a little bit lost...or like she lost or left something behind and couldn't get it back.

"Sorry about that," he said quietly, meaning it.

Wendy's entire posture softened, and the mantle of her hair waved while her head shook.

"Not you're fault."

"Then...things are better?"

Wendy seemed to think that over some, lips pursed, eyes thoughtful.

"I think they will be...it will just take some time. But they will be."

* * *

S*S

Wendy licked her finger -he hastily looked away- and flipped cleanly through the completed pages of the packet, on to the next assignment, brow furrowing as she scanned and read.

"By now you have gotten through chapters 1-5. In order to move on to the next assignment, read up to chapter 8. Then write a paragraph on the character that resonates most with you-"

Johnny leaned over and stared at the paper. "What the heck is resonates?"

"Resonates means something that agrees with you deep, deep down inside. It makes you feel something bigger than yourself, but at the same time part of yourself. You know."

Johnny pursed his lips and thought about it. Then he thought about the Curtis' and the gang. And then he nodded. "Think so."

"Okay...so I guess we just read and compare when were done."

"Sounds good."

Least it had, until their heads dropped and they started reading. And slow, uncomfortable blocks of ice started to settle in his stomach as Johnny followed Pip through another clash with his sister, up to the time-locked house of wedding wrapped -and plainly crazy -Miss Havisham. And watching the kid get turned around and upside down as the girl he meet scoffed at everything he was.

And everything he wasn't.

Reminded him of somethin' Ponyboy told him about...how in his science class, when his knife wouldn't cut, the kid had unthinkingly pulled out his switch blade...and had the girl next to him gasp like he was Jack the Ripper.

Or a "common laboring boy".

Funny...well not funny-funny, but...funny. More than a hundred years ago, but not all that different, was it?

 _Wow..._

By the time he had finished, going slow, so he didn't miss anything, Wendy was already done, and waiting patiently for him. Which made him oddly feel good and not to hot at the same time. She looked thoughtful again.

"I think I'm gonna do Miss Havisham," she said. And Johnny blinked.

"Really?" he said, before he could stop. Her head tilted.

"Why not?"

Johnny rolled his shoulder and wetted his lips, wishing he'd just kept his mouth shut. "Well it just...I...the thing said pick somethin' that resonates with ya...and ya not like Miss Havisham. Not to me at least."

Wendy shuffled, pushing her knees together under her skirt. "Well...resonates doesn't have to mean agree with, or even like it...it just means you get it, you know. That you get where their coming from. And for that character...I do. She's hurt. And she's hurt so badly she wants to hurt others just to feel something. But it can't undo what was done."

"And I get it, I understand it..." she shrugged up a shoulder. "Even seen a few people like that. How 'bout you. What are you doing?"

Johnny tapped his pencil against his leg.

"Don' know yet...I think maybe Joe or Pip. One of those."

"Why?"

Now it was his turn to shrug. "I just...I get them, both of them. They both got it rough, but try to make the best of it...and make the best of themselves. They don't bother nobody...but nobody leaves them alone."

Wendy nodded. "That's...really good Johnny. I like it. Now we better get it down before we forget. It saids we need a paragraph, so that about five to seven sentences. shouldn't be so hard."

* * *

S*S

By the time they were done, there homework looked like this:

 **Pip's kinda a dreamer, and holds onto stuff, first like how he lingers 'round his parents' gravestones. He thinks the world of Estella. Even though she's colder than ice. He takes her cruelty—"Why, he is a common labouring-boy!"—without defending himself because he thinks she right. Heck, he only cries when he is forced to leave her. The differences between their classes manifest themselves even in small things; while playing cards in Chapter 8, Estella remarks disdainfully, "He calls the knaves, jacks, this boy!" Then he starts looking at other people differently.**

 _The mad, vengeful Miss Havisham, a wealthy dowager who lives in a rotting mansion and wears an old wedding dress every day of her life. It is an image of what happen when a person can not forgive others...or themselves. She is certainly one of the most memorable creations in the book. Miss Havisham's life is defined by a single even -being left at the alter. She is one of the most strange and grotesque characters in the story, the "wicked witch" of the fairy tale. She is morbidly attached with what happened to her, and see no harm in causing Pip the same pain she felt._

Wendy nodded, satisfied, as she folded up the packet and tucked it back away.

"Well, that about does it," she said happily, smiling some more, so he was powerless not to kinda grin back. Though when her eyes caught the clock on the wall, and that smile faded, and her shoulders dropped.

"Wendy?"

Breathing out, she let her mouth twitch in a Whatddya-gonna-do like way and shrugged again.

"I got to get going Johnny," she explained softly. "My brothers will be home from school soon."

Oh.

"Oh," he said out loud, before clearing his throat and nodding, "Okay."

He stood as well, gripping the hair on the back of his head, feeling the grease coat his fingers and the cut on his cheek. "I gotta be headed back home too, I guess."

And wouldn't that be fun? It was always a pattern -first his mother would lose her shit, give him a slap or a scratch, then start in on his dad to "do something about this _Ragazzo_..."

Which would build for a day or two, and lead to a real licking, just to shut her up. Rinse and repeat.

And the longer he stayed away, the worse it would be, might as well just get it over with. Wendy didn't have to know that.

"See you tomorrow, right? In class?" she asked, holding her bag tight -looking hopeful but trying not too.

Johnny got that awful tugging in his gut. So she noticed when he wasn't there. He nodded.

"Sure."

Tonight probably wasn't gonna be good. But short of having two broken legs, he damn well was gonna show up tomorrow.

After all, he never been a coward.

He held the door open again, on their way out. The light was mockingly bright. But glory she looked good when they parted ways -there were a few autumn leaves caught in her hair, like bit of gold from sun, matching well with the sky in her eyes as she smiled -for _him_ \- and waved a happy-sad good-bye.

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so I hope you tell me what you think.

Well, Johnny's got it bad, huh. I've always thought of him as the type that would go above and beyond for somebody if he thought they cared about him. Hope that got across. How do you like his view on Wendy -boys thoughts on crushes are very different than girls after all.

P.S -Johnny calling himself a yo-yo for daring to talk with Wendy comes from the karate kid Daniel Laruso, played by Ralph Machico.


	14. Blessed Virgin Wendy

Mood: I thought it was you.

Mood: Exactally, but Wendy and Johnny deepen their friendship here.

Happier than Most: Yep, Wendy's smile is just for Johnny, and I'm glad you like the trip to the library, I plan to have more fun with their homework assignments.

lulusgardenfli: Thank you for the wonderful compliments and I must say, your reviews are drool worthly, I love them. I hope you get a kick out of this chapter.

Lovetoread75 : Yes, Great Expectations and Outsiders are very similar, and I think that's why they stand the test of time.

bookgirl18 : Well feeling better is a long ay off, but I hope you like this chapter!

* * *

Chapter XIV

* * *

S*S

When Wendy looked back on the day, years after it happened, she would tell herself that really, she should've seen it coming. Should've put the pieces together. It was laying right in front of her, like a broken jigsaw puzzle. With only a few missing blanks from having the whole image before her.

Blanks that should've filled in with the missed days, the quiet, his fascination with Pip. And the time when Johnny reached to the ground to pick up a dropped pencil, and the sleeve of his jacket had lifted enough that she could see a band of ugly purple stained around his wrist. And a matching one on his other.

She must've made some then, some little gasp or squeak no matter how small, cause her friend looked up, 'fore snatching up that pencil and returning his attention to the front of the class, determinedly staring ahead. She know her eyes were very wide at this point, that she could feel air stinging the around the edges of her eyeballs.

"What happened?" she whispered, careful not to get overheard by their classmates or teacher. The black of Johnny's eye sought out her out briefly, flickering, before offering a simple shrug.

"Nothin. Got in'a fight is all."

...Wendy had tilted her head, mouth pursed for about five seconds before nodding carefully and turning back to her own notes on class difference in 1830's England. But something in her had turned his answer over in her brain, the way she would when trying to sort out fact from fib in one of her brothers white lies. And...something in her decided that she didn't believe him. Sure, then been a few times in class where Johnny came in a little banged up -bruised face, spilt lip, even a black eye. And she'd bought his fight explanation because it made sense. The boys in Tulsa fought, she'd learned that during the summer, when Bob and the others guys sometimes picked the girls up sporting similar trophies. She wished they'd all be more careful, but that was liking asking the wind to stop blowing.

But...where in a fight would someone get the chance to get the chance to grab not one...but _both_ his wrists? She could see someone blocking a punch, but that wouldn't do same damage all the way around, would it? And not to both of them.

Bedsides, she might not have ever seen Johnny fight, but she saw him nearly every day in the halls, moving silent as a cat and twice as nimble, like he'd been liquid in another life. For someone to get close enough to grab him, Johnny would've have to be standing still. And what sense did that make?

The pieces were all there, a one plus one equation. But for some reason she hadn't added up to two.

After sneaking a peak at Mr. Syme, she leaned over again.

"Johnny...we're friends, right? So you...you can tell me things, you know? I won't judge you."

She felt odd immediately after she said it. They were classmates, sure. Project partners without election. And he was awful nice with her. But did that actually make them friends?

The fuller way Johnny turned to look at her, the embers in his eyes lit soft-like, burning truth out of her. She shuffled in her seat. There was something so much _older_ than either of them in those eyes. To her shame, she couldn't hold the gaze with her own. Though when Wendy looked up, he didn't seem to hold it against her.

"I know ya ain't gonna judge me, Wen," Johnny said finally, with an accepting nod. It was the first time he'd used her nickname, and despite the conversation, she couldn't help a bubbling sort of happiness from frothing up inside, shining through her eyes and her smile as she brighten. And got a answering smile in return.

"Miss Allen? Mr. Cade?"

They both jump, identical headlight eyes turning back to the front, where Mr. Syme was mildly peering over the rims of his glasses at them.

"Is there something you care to share with the class?" he asked them lightly. Wendy felt her face blaze up, all the way to her hair, but she knew Johnny wouldn't open his mouth unless he had too, so Wendy hastily shook her head. "No sir, we're sorry."

Next to her, Johnny nodded quietly, while avoiding the scowl Steve Randle was sending him way. Wendy just counted her blessing that Beth Mays was out sick today.

Mr. Syme raised an eyebrow. "Well, then, please keep your attention up front."

"Yes, sir," Wendy promised, before both she and Johnny did their best to become one with their seats. So they missed the glint in the eye and knowing pull of Mr. Syme's lips as he faced the chalkboard again.

Despite the embarrassment, that didn't stop the pair of them from packing up slowly when class was let out, wanting a minute before they left. Only problem was...there was no homework today, as for the life of her, Wendy didn't know what to talk about. So they just stood their, shuffling for a moment before what nerve they could claim fled them like a runaway turkey.

"Um...see you tomorrow?" Johnny blurted out, and Wendy hastily nodded her agreement as she scooped up her bag.

"Tomorrow," she consented, before taking the breath of an Olympic diver. "And...even if we're not...if there no homework...wanttodosomthingafterclass?"

The cramp sentence might as well be in Chinese for how much sense it made. But Johnny seem to have no trouble understanding her slurred speech. Only in believing it, his hand jumping to bangs, tugging them. "Ah...I..."

Just then the closed (or what they thought was closed) door threw itself open, in such a way that it scared ten years off both their lives; Wendy actually shrieking as she and Johnny whirled to face their intruder with the rusty sideburns and Mickey Mouse T-shirt.

He had a grin to skin an alligator, as he came over to them, sweeping off an imaginary top hat and dropping into a graceful bow; arm folded against his stomach before taking Wendy's hand in his much larger one. A closed eyed Steve Randle leaning against the door frame, holding his hand to his face and looking like he was asking God to kill him.

"Well darling, I'm sure I can speak for Johnnycakes here when I say he'd be _deee-lighted_ to accompany a fair lady to _whereveah_ she so desires," Two-Bit intoned grandly. "Isn't that right, Johnnycakes?"

He grinned over at his friend, who'd look as if he'd died and was waiting for someone to bury him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Two-Bit said, not missing a beat. Then he actually kissed Wendy's hand, before looping an arm around Johnny and leading his friend to the door, still grinning. "So we'll all meet here same time same place. You just bring ya-self in somthin' nice hon, and I'll take care of this fellow here. Then it off to wherever y'all want to go. So until then, so long, farewell, Auf Wiedersehen _annnd_ gazuntite."

With one last waving bow, Two-Bit put his unseen top hat back on his head, and lead his trio out the door. Wendy could hear him hooting as they went down the halls.

...She also realized that her hand was still up in the air, where the walking gray-eyed heart-attack had left it, and carefully brought it back to her side, blinking. Not knowing what else to do, she started home, the path known to her memory since the thinking portion of her brain was temporary out of order.

It was only when she was half-way home did the thought that she might accidently have her first date tomorrow stopped Wendy in her tracks.

* * *

S*S

Which left her doing something she hadn't done in more than two years. Inside the Allen's home, Wendy raised her close fist before the closed white door of Connie's bedroom, Elvis' _So Lonely_ cooing out to her from inside her sister's self imposed tomb. A sure sign her daydreaming over some guy. Wendy had noticed her and Jack flirting in the halls, cutting their class to smirk and play Chinese's whispers. Well least they used to. Wendy hadn't seen that in a while now.

Which was probably why Con had checked into the Heartbreak hotel. Probably wasn't use to one of her guys playing her game on her level.

 _"Although it's always crowded you can still find some room...For broken hearted lovers to cry away the gloom..._ _"_

Wendy bit her lip, lowering her hand before raising it again. But before she could knock, it swung open, reveling Con in all her dropped eyelid, cocked hip glory.

"You been standing here for fifteen minutes, Wen," Connie droned out, a red sweater falling of her shoulder, almost sneering. Things...hadn't improved between them since the trip to Windrixville. "If ya gonna knock, knock. What do ya want, _hon?_ "

 _"I get so lonely baby...I get so lonely baby..."_

Well, now or never. She took a breath.

"I...I need your help, Con," she finally blurted, in a fast winded rush, the tortoise chasing the hare. And making her sister's eyebrow shoot up, up, to her curly hair. She looked the younger Allen up, and down, and back again. And Wendy jolted to realize she'd startled her good.

"I...don't think I heard that right," Connie said finally, holding the door ever so slightly more open. "Did the Blessed Virgin Wendy just say she needed a mere human's help?"

Wendy closed her eyes to shield herself from the blasphemy that flew her way, but that didn't stop it from hitting her ears.

"Mama would kill you if she'd heard you say that-"

"Mama's not here, Wendy," Connie snapped, with a harshness made them both jump, that seem to even take her by surprise. She stopped, gave a growling-sighed, and rubbed the space between her eyes before meeting Wendy's gaze again, contemplating. Squirming, Wendy laced her fingers together.

"...I real do need your help, Con," she said softly.

 _"I get so lonely I could die..."_

"...With what?" Con asked.

Her face got red. "Um...I kinda...have a not-date tomorrow...and I don't know what to wear."

If Connie's face was incredulous before, she was absolutely uncomprehending now.

"...A date..."

"A not-date," Wendy corrected.

" _You_ have a _date_..."

"Well...I don't know!" Wendy cried, arms flapping like a fledgling. "That's why I need help!"

"My God, we're in the end-times," Con muttered, more to herself than to Wendy. Then she stepped back and open the door wider.

 _"So if your baby leaves you, you got a tale to tell...Just take a walk down lonely street to heartbreak hotel..."_

"Come in, hon."

* * *

S*S

"So...Blessed Virgin Wendy," Connie drawled, once Wendy had seated herself on the bed. She turned off Elvis. "Who's the lucky Joseph?"

She made a face, and resisted the urge to cross herself. "Could you stop with the Bible references? This is serious!"

Connie held up her hands. "Hey, I'm just happy to finally have some proof that your human like the rest of us...by the way, did an angel arrange the date, and blow the trumpets?"

An image of a haloed and bewinged Two-Bit Matthew, delicately stringing up a harp, tried to manifest itself in Wendy's mind -though that quickly got replaced with an image of the Greaser hitching up his shinny white gown to moon his friends from Heaven. The second one fit better.

"Um...not exactly." Connie waved it aside.

"So this boy," she drew out, walking the length of the room like a prosecutor. "On a scale of one to ten, how cute is he?"

Wendy blinked. "Huh?"

"Oh you heard me. One to ten. How cute?"

Wendy shuffled, then flush. She tried to think on a more objective sale rather than her personal one, tossing in Johnny's eyes, his grin, his bangs and taking away most girls would find him small, and avoid or mistake his quietness. "Um...7.5?"

Connie arched a brow, then hummed.

"So probably a 6.1 for me..."

"Hey!" Wendy cried, affronted -though for Johnny or her insulted taste, she wasn't sure.

"Hush it hon, you came to me, remember?"

"But what does that have to do with how I dress?!"

Con rolled her eyes. "So you'll know how much effort to put into it. If he's a doll, you'll want to put on your best. If not, you'll want your clothes to be a visual go-no-further sign."

"But shouldn't you put in an equal effort to look nice for everyone?"

Connie stopped walking, and stared into space a moment, lips twitching. "God you're square. That's not how it works, Wen. That's not how any of this works. No. You don't put in equal effort with everyone. Cause they sure as hell won't put equal effort into you. Even if you are the Virgin Wendy."

* * *

S*S

After a few more rounds of arguing and snipping, Connie eventually helped (in the loosest sense of the term) Wendy decide to wear a dark blue dress and black sweater -nothing to fancy, but some of the nicest casual things she owned.

"Blue's your color hon," Connie had decaled, in the closest thing she ever said to a compliment. "And the black will make your waist look like it doesn't belong to a twelve year old."

Or, so she started out. Well, it was nice while it lasted. Course, any hope Wendy had of this warming their relationship were effectively nipped in the bud with the remark, and the speed in which Con all but threw her out of the room; with the command for the Blessed Virgin Wendy to pray for her to the Lord our God...yeah, she wouldn't be letting that title go for a while, it looked like. Wendy would just have to live with it.

And yes, she _would_ pray for her sister's soul cause it was clear she didn't, Wendy sniffed.

But all that was far from mind as she sat through her classes and English drew ever, ever nearer. By the time she shyly walked into the room, her thoughts were all but starwards...except for one thing.

Johnny wasn't there today, his seat empty of his blue jeaned shadow.

At first this didn't concren Wendy -there had been a few times when Johnny had come in late to class. Occasionally worse for wear. But there all the same.

But slowly the class started filling in. And Johnny wasn't there.

Mr. Syme's came in (and looked a long moment at Wendy's direction). And Johnny wasn't there.

Homework was given out at the end of class. And Johnny wasn't there.

And by that point, the niggle of nerves in her stomach had turned into a primordial knot of worry. No, not worry. Worry didn't do it justice. Something was _wrong_ here. Just plain _wrong_. Wendy could feel it the gulf of her abdomen, in the same spot that connected her to Sam and Eric, the same spot that had dropped her grandmother Allen to the floor of her kitchen when her sons had been killed in the sands of Normandy.

That spot was burning in her, kicking agaisnt the inner skin of her stomach, as she absently mindedly strolled towards her locker. Only to stop as sharp voices echoed down the empty hallways.

"Christ, Johnny, why'd ya even come today?! Thought ya clean up a little first!"

"I did! But the damn bleedin' started again!"

"Shit, we gotta get 'im to Mrs. Curtis-"

 _Bleeding?_

The word had barely registered when her friend came around the corner with Two-Bit and the also-absent Steve Randle on either side of him. They grinded to a halt when they saw her standing there, Randle letting out a low curse and Two-Bit for once looking wary. But Wendy didn't really see that, her eyes where locked onto the red globs that were pouring out of Johnny's nose like a broken hose.

And if she hadn't been so stunned, she would've found dark humor in how Johnny positioned his hand like he was trying to hid it.

"Wendy?" he tried to ask, though it came out funny. Cause the blood or not, she didn't know. "What are ya still doing here?"

"I was...what happened to you? Are you okay?"

In retrospect, it was a dumb question, an opinion Steve Randal shared.

"He look okay to you?" the other boy snapped, sneering -likely in an attempt to scare her. But oddly enough, something in the look was so like Connie's, that Wendy felt reactive steel come into her spine, and straighten her back, while she held his gaze.

"No he doesn't," she said flatly, before marching herself over, and sliding her fingers under Johnny's chin to examine him. She took no note of the startled tenseness that seeped into the flanking Greasers as they watched her with their friend. And how he let her touch him.

"We got to fix this this up," she muttered, and Steve snorted.

"Which is what we were gonna do," he retorted, glaring. "Why don't your just mind your own business? This don't concren your kind. You're a _Soc._ "

...If Steve Randal confessed to being the tooth fairy, Wendy wouldn't have looked at him with more disbelief. What did that have to do with anything right now?!

"And you're a Greaser," she finally noted, for lack of anything else to say. Without further adieu, she took Johnny's hand and began to walk with him towards the nearest faculties. After a few steps Steve begun to say something uncomplimentary behind her when Two-Bit cut in -"Shut up man! Ya want'na make him walk all the way to the Curtis' when there someone here who wants to help?" And grumbling he subsided.

After receiving some wetted paper towels from the girls' room, Wendy went to business.

" Lean forward," she instructed gently, hand cradling his head into position as he obeyed. "If there's blood in your mouth, spit it out; don't swallow it. And hold the towel to where you fee the pressure."

"Ya seem to know ya stuff," Two-Bit commented from a few paces away, hands in his pockets. He looked much subdued from the self appointed matchmaker from hell he'd been yesterday. Like that was just a Russian nesting doll, and this was closer to his pure Self, in how both he and Steve didn't seem to want to leave Johnny alone with her.

It softened Wendy towards them both. "My brothers get these a lot, and my Mama was a nurse...so I picked up a few things...but what happened? Did you get in a fight?"

Steve snorted. "Oh yeah, his old man was in a real fighting mood-"

To be fair to him, he honestly didn't say it very loud. But he hadn't counted on how the sound would carry. And Wendy stilled before staring at him in disbelieving horror.

"Ah shit...Johnny man, I didn't mean to-" Steve started to say. Johnny, meanwhile had his eyes closed and his mouth pressed, before he opened them, looking embarrassed and more than a little annoyed.

"It's fine," he said, though his quiet tone suggested otherwise. "You guys can go, I'm alright, I know her."

Chastened, they obeyed, though somewhere down the hall, Wendy heard Two-Bit -"Ya a damn retard, ya know that?" -and couldn't find it within herself to disagree.

Johnny wouldn't look at her, gaze firmly locked on the dirty aluminum floor.

"...Your Dad did this to you?"

His mouth pulled and he sighed, before rolling a shoulder and giving a nod. And the simply acceptance she saw in his gaze was what made her own hand jump to cover her mouth, catching a horrible, pitiful sound. Johnny looked up and tensed to see her crying, hand grabbing his bangs.

"Ah, Wen don't...come on don't cry. It's not so bad, I'm use to it," Johnny said, sounding kinda desperate to make her stop. That just made her flood break even more, something that startled him when it shouldn't. Couldn't he see how much worse that made it?

She didn't remember taking the step, but next she knew, judging from his surprised _ohmf_ , she was hugging him, as tight as she always wished someone would hug her, when things had gotten their absolute worst.

"You shouldn't be. That shouldn't be happening to you." She wasn't how much of that was audible, with her mouth in his shoulder, but it was the best she could do, before she lost her nerve and pulled away. And she saw from the way his arms were raised that he was about to hug her back. And she could've kicked herself for pulled away.

"...Thanks," he finally whispered. Then he took a breath and cleared his throat. "You...you should go home, Wendy. I'm fine."

She hesitated, but he gave her an encouraging nod. "Go on."

* * *

S*S

By the time Wendy got home, Sam and Eric were getting off the bus, and Con was just heading out to the car. But as they all met in the driveway, the other three stopped dead when they saw Wendy. The twins stared, and Connie's purse slide right off her shoulder to the pavement.

"The heck happened to you!?" she demanded, and Wendy jolted.

"Huh?"

Grumbling, Con snatched her purse from the ground and fished out a mirror. "There a reason you look like ya lose a boxing match?"

In the round reflective surface, Wendy saw her forehead, face and the front of her dress were speckled with Johnny's blood.

"Oh..." she raised her hands, touching them reverently before she snapped to herself. "A friend at school had a nose bleed...I helped him and got some on me is all."

Sam and Eric gave identical "ah's" and nodded knowingly, but Connie raised an eyebrow, after lowering her sunglasses. "Must've been some nose bleed."

"It was," she agreed, before pushing past them. "Excuse me...Imma wash up."

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so I hope you tell me what you think.

For all the deep seriousness of this chapter. my favorite part was Connie and Wendy's sence and Two-Bit playing the Wingman from hell. Hoped you enjoyed. And Mr. Syme totally ships Johnny and Wendy. On a more serious note, i feel like ive kicked up the theme of loneliness and motherhood.


	15. Falling Leaves

guest: Yep, but he just rolls with it.

Happier than Most: I'm glad to loved Wendy's steady realization, I wanted it to be subtle, gentle, till Steve rips the band aid off. And I'm glad you loved Two-Bit's part, he was a riot to write.

lulusgardenfli: drool worthy...phenomenal...thank you! I love what I do here, and it great to see you all enjoy it! Keep reading!

Jcuret98: Believe me I know, and Johnny's my favorite character! He needs more stories.

bookgirl18 : Maybe they'll do their own thing.

* * *

Chapter XV

* * *

S*S

Wendy didn't have much of an appetite at dinner. So she ended up herding her vegetables around on the white china of her plate, the fork pressing just hard enough to scratch the frail surface. While the Allen's dinner times had always been subdued since losing Mama, this time round, Wendy just wasn't contributing at all.

Her siblings were giving her and each other looks from their spots at the table. The twins baffled as blue jays, and Connie unreadable as a reflection on the water.

And when dinner was over, she didn't protest when they scattered to their self-discriminated zones within the house, as separate as as east and west Berlin, behind its iron wall. But Wendy changed it up a bit regarding herself, once more retreating to the embrace of Mama's reading chair; trying to think of what she would say to what Wendy had just learned this day. Mama had been a child's doctor, a Pediatric, and while she never talked about it, there were some days where Mary Allen would return home, lips pressed, eyes flashing, before talking to the police on the telephone (and cursing them in foreign tongues, when she didn't get the answer she wanted.)

Which lead to Wendy's eyes traveling over to the telephone here with her now, laying in wait besides the lamp. It's grip pleading for her fingers.

But some whisper in her mind held onto her shoulders, held her firm, whispering to her _wait. Think._ _Think it all through chey..._

She pushed a raven lock of hair out of her face, behind her ears. Johnny's friends...had been taking him somewhere. To a Mrs. Curtis...Sodapop and Ponyboy's mother, she presumed. A full grown adult, who surely must've treated Johnny before this day, from the way the boys had mentioned it. Surely the kind looking lady Wendy had seen would've done all she could to help -her husband too. Maybe the Police gave them the same answers they'd given Mama all those times and all those years ago.

Then there was Johnny himself...he hadn't been too happy when Steve Randle spelled the beans on him. If he wanted it to remain silent...who was Wendy to do otherwise, without his knowledge? Johnny hadn't demanded her silence, but it was clear as hell that he trusted her.

Wendy breathed shakily, hugging her knees. She couldn't break that trust. Not when the trust he ought to have in his own family was clearly broken and shattered like ice beneath his feet.

A thought suddenly tugged at her ear, and with a subtler force of Mariska Allen's temper, Wendy felt her teeth clench. And what about Johnny's mother? What was _her_ say in all this? Unfortunately, Wendy recalled Johnny's earlier tale of hellcat and scratches; and soon the chair pillow, which had always looked to smug for its own good, was sailing across the room and into the wall with an impotent and unimpressive _thump._

...Back when Wendy had lived in D.C. there had been an absolutely snot of a boy that she went to elementary school with, Jeremy Coins, with horrible bloody brown hair. Cruel and vicious in a way that defined belief, for only being ten years old. Once at recess, he'd caught a monarch butterfly in hand, and displayed it proudly to a crowd of little girls...before tearing the beautiful thing apart, right before their eyes, laughing while they screamed and cried for it. But worse was when a mother cat had the unfortunate to have her babies found by Jeremy, who took the blind things, tossed them in garbage can, shutting the lid and watching the mama go utterly frantic trying to save them.

...that was _cat_ , running off pure instinct, unblessed with the reasoning and knowledge a bite of apple had granted the human race. What excuses did a human mother have, to misuse her own flesh and blood?

Wendy didn't know...and God help her, she never wanted to know.

Fiery water stung her eyes, burned her throat, soon escaping down one cheek. Her own family might be fractured and divided, her father -who had yet to return from Jerry's- might be as distant as God on high, but at least they never put hands on each other. How could anybody stand too, when all it did was destroyed your past, make your present a living hell, and the future inescapable?

* * *

S*S

Life had it's quiet victory though, and went on after that day. Tulsa's trees continued to change and lose it's leaves, like innocence given way to maturity, and the weather grew brisker and brisker, until Wendy started wrapping the twins up more before the left for school. Dad came home, and reported that Pete and Joe would have a memorial service in two weeks, before snow and ice froze the ground. So there was that to look forward too. Much as she loved her cousins, Wendy didn't want to think about it with everything else. And she didn't think they'd mind. For Pete and Joe, it was the living that counted more than the dead.

After all, the living could be helped, the dead you had to let rest in peace.

So she threw herself in school, getting in great shape due to her stupid schedule, and spent more time with Peggy and Marcia and Cherry...felt like they had just dropped from the story lately. And Marcia and Peggy were the same as they always were, and beyond happy to have Wendy back in the group again. But Cherry...Cherry was different, her pretty forehead furrowed more often, and her lips pressed. She even snapped at poor Peggy, when the smaller girl asked what was wrong.

"Don't take it the wrong way ya'll," Marcia explained quietly, after Cherry miserably apologized and walked off. "She an' Bob...things aren't good with them lately..."

Cherry wasn't the only girl with romance woes though. Even Connie had proven herself a human being, her green eyes going wide when Jack began blowing her off with greater ease than ever before. On a private note, Wendy thought it might be good for Con.

But life at Roger Wills had changed in other way; for one thing, Wendy had noticed that the boys belonging to the Curtis gang were paying more attention to her, where as before, she hadn't even appeared on their radar -she would catch the newly returned Sodapop peering over at her sometimes, curiously, while Two-Bit would offered a nod if he saw her walking down the hall; apparently taking her association with Johnny a bit more seriously after the incident. The days of imaginary tops hats and gazunites had passed over yonder.

Steve Randle just scowled, like he bit into a bad lemon.

* * *

S*S

And with the most private thing between them now out in the open, her friendship with Johnny changed as well. It deepened; from a early spring-baby green, to rich shades of red and gold and orange. Their secret talks in the back of class, as well as after it, lingering with much greater ease, despite the failure of their "not-date". And honestly... they hadn't rescheduled, and Wendy wondered if this might not be better.

"I love all the gang," he was telling her one day; as they roamed the empty halls once more, after everybody had gone home, feet looping and hands in his pockets as they step in window-pools of sunlight and shadow. "But Pony's my best friend outta all of them. We're the most alike."

"How so?" she asked, curious about his life. She liked it when he talked about his friends, it made his eyes shine with reclaimed youth.

"Shoot...we're just different," Johnny answered with a shrug, lips pulling. "Don't always match up too well to the hand we're dealt, ya know? But he's a good kid. Wicked smart like you. We're all proud of him, expect 'im to get inna collage like Darry-"

Her head tilted. "Darry?"

"Ah sorry -Darrel Curtis, he's Ponyboy's and Soda's older brother..." he trailed off at the look on her face, their steps coming to a halt on the second floor, blinking.

"Um...Wen?" he asked, shuffling and baffled. "What is it?"

Calmly, she lifted a hand. Unfurled a finger in what might've been mistaken for a "come hither" gesture if not for the blank look on her face. His eyes certainly got wide.

"Ponyboy," she said frankly, before unfurling a second finger. "Sodapop..."

Then she unfurled a third, eyebrow arching. " _Darrel?_ "

Johnny sniggered and grinned. "Yeah, their Dad likes weird names. Though Darry kinda lucked out I guess."

Wendy clicked her tongue. "I don't know about that...Darrel sounds like _barrel_ and his nickname could be mistaken for what comes from a cow..."

Ruefully, she shook her head, eye glinting cheekily. "None of 'em really lucked out in the name department, did they?"

By this point, Johnny shoulders were shaking and his eyes were aglow. "Nah, I guess they didn't."

Their inevitable laughter, when it came, crept out shyly; peering around the corners of their mouths before walking out into the open to meet and greet with bashful eyes. They didn't get out much.

"I'm tellin' 'em ya said that," he teased, reaching over and tugging a stray lock of her hair, before blinking and quickly releasing it.

Wendy beamed. "Feel free, but be sure to mention my sister thought for sure there was a Popcorn and a Camal in their somewhere."

When they calmed down, the rest of the gang came up.

"Pony may be my best friend, but the one I look up to the most is ol' Dally."

The rasp in his voice was different when he said it, reverent almost. And Wendy locked onto it. That name was important.

"Whose Dally?"

Johnny whistled as they started walking again. "Dally one'a the newer members of the gang. We didn't grow up with 'im, he came down from New York a few years ago. He's our age but don't go to school or to nothin' he don't want to go to. He knows all he needs to an' can take care of himself."

The name suddenly rang a bell. Dally. Dallas Winston. Meaner than a junk yard dog, according to Marcia. But Johnny clearly admired him...so maybe he wasn't all bad. Few things were what they seemed to be in Tulsa.

* * *

S*S

Of course their talks weren't all so lighthearted, sometimes after that, right as they were finishing up homework in the abandoned library, Johnny admitted that he hated to go home, and that most days he didn't, camping out with the Curtis'. How long that could last he didn't know.

"I hate feelin' like I'm drainin' 'em," he drawled softly, looking at the wall with his gaze far away. "They don't got no money to spare. I think when I'm outta school I'll get a job and try to pay 'em back some, while I can..."

"You don't want to leave Tulsa?" Wendy asked, not understanding that last part. "There's a whole world out there..."

Johnny gave a thin smile. "Don't got no money to leave, do I? Sides, where would I go? My life's here."

Then his head tilted and he changed the subject. "How 'bout you? Whatdaya wanna do, Wen?"

"Oh," she flushed and shuffled her notebooks a bit. "Well...I guess I wanna write..."

"Write? Like...newspapers?"

"Oh no...," she shook her head fiercely. "I'd be thrown in jail for yellow journalism if I went for that. No...I want to write books. And short stories. Like...Flannery O'Conner or somthin'."

The embers in Johnny's eyes lit again, and his arms folded on the table. "O'Conner? Pony's got a book of hers. Good stuff. I like it. She's...I donno.. _.real_ I guess. Almost like a fairytale but...well, sure ain't a lot of happy endin's."

"No," Wendy agreed, softly, pushing her hair back, not seeing how he watched. "Fannery thought there was more important things in life than a 'happy ending'. She was hardcore Catholic. So by default, she didn't think there was any human being on earth that, by himself, was worthy of a happy-ever-after...or of creating one that last forever. That's why a lot of her characters were so...so..."

She searched for the word, hand flipping over in the air.

"Messed up?" Johnny suggested drily.

"Yeah," Wendy agreed. "Like real people. She was a Christian Realist...the idea was that the more you try to make something perfect, the more the world messed you up, but that there's this thing called grace, and that grace sometimes hits us between the eyes when we're the most disgusting."

Johnny nodded, pencil drumming thoughtfully. "We all like 'em leaves on the trees, I guess. We rot and fall off...what ya favorite story of hers?"

" _The Displaced Person_ ," Wendy said. "I love the theme. How about you?"

Johnny clicked his cheek and thought a moment. " _The Artificial Nigg_..."

He trailed off before he could finish the word, wincing and reaching for his bangs, before rubbing his redden neck.

"Uh...sorry 'bout that, Wen," he said, sheepish.

Wendy appreciate the gesture. "It's fine, I like that one too."

They were quiet for a few minutes, until Johnny asked the next question.

"So...which do ya like better? Books, or short stories?"

Wendy pursed her lips, thinking that over. "Short stories I think, like fairy tales. It more difficult to get all you want in a certain number of pages. I...I even sent in two of my own to a contest lately."

His eyebrows peeked up in interest. "No kiddin'?"

She blushed. "Nope."

His mouth twitched up and he nodded. "Tuff enough. Did ya win?"

"Um...I don't know yet. Won't know for a week or two."

"Oh." he lifted his head a bit to look at her more seriously. "You let me know how it goes, okay?"

She beamed. "Sure."

Johnny wasn't the only one sharing secrets of course. That hardly be fair, not to mention a gross imbalance. So slowly, carefully, Wendy told him about Mama, about what her absence had done to her home. How it had wreaked her father, to watch his wife succumb to the hell of lung cancer - her own body doing what the Nazis couldn't- and how it drove her sister away and into herself; leaving Wendy to somehow become the artificial mother to her brothers.

And despite the fact that her troubles were small compared to his, Johnny was sympathetic, the dark coals of his eyes warmed and calm with similar hurts.

Above all else, that's what gave her the courage to reach over, and print her phone number in the heart of his palm, something she'd been wanting to do for a while.

As he blinked in surprise, she pulled back, biting her lip. "Look I know you got the gang...but if you ever need to talk, don't feel shy about calling, okay?"

The embers in his eyes turned look at her, she got the widest smile she'd ever seen from him.

"Sure thing, Wendy," he promised, soft like.

* * *

S*S

Of course not everything could be pleasant and easy. One day, when Wendy, puffing exhaust from her latest sprint down the stairs, was fumbling to remember the last number on her bright red locker when the sudden presence of fingers in her hair nearly made the younger Allen girl jump out her scalp.

"Easy Wendy," Jack laughed, making himself at home on the locker next to her, the middle classer girl who owned it was fidgeting from a safe foot away, not daring to approach. "I don't bite."

She wrinkled her nose. Marks she'd seen on her sister's neck, covered by delicately mack-up, suggested otherwise. But Wendy didn't deem it prudent to remind him of that fact. Breathing out, she gave him about half of her attention as she still struggled with her locker, resisting the urge to kick it, figuring he just wanted to know if Connie was still angry with him.

"Say," he said, smiling like the thought had just come to him. "How 'bout you and me head to the Dive-In this weekend?"

...Or not. Blinking, she stopped fiddling with the locker door and looked at him. Like always, she was made to craned her neck up him as he leaned over her, and she couldn't get the thought out of her head that he was making fun of her littleness as she tried to gauge his intent.

Because really...it had to be a joke. Aside from his annoying behavior at the rodeo, he hadn't spared two words for her all year, perfectly happy to make time with Lillian or Connie, depending on which girl was at hand. And when David wasn't around to see with the former, though Wendy had heard the rumor saying that Randy had protectively confronted Jack over it on his stepbrother's behalf; for once forcing _Bob,_ of all people, into the roll of the blessed peacemaker. A sure sign of the end times. And just like that, on top of the fact that she really didn't like him, Jack thought she'd be willing to turn her house into a verbal cat fight over him? Connie was unbearable as it was. And the _Drive-In_ of all places?

Idly, she wondered if she ought to feel bad, especially since she never turned anybody down before. But the thought soon discarded itself. Like Connie, it would him some good to learn that he was _not_ the center of Will Rogers High School.

"No, thanks," she answered, giving a mild shake of her head. Then inspiration dawned, she remembered the last number was 12, and she was taking out her books for English class, and then off on her merry way, leaving a Mr. Jack Pescare gaping after her.

* * *

S*S

Unfortunately, it also turned out to be the worst mistake Wendy had made in her short life. Because somehow, instead of taking her rejection as the _no_ it was, Jack had re-translated it into _"follow-Wendy-around-until-she-said-yes_ ". Which was as unbearable as it sounded. Over the next week, she slowly came to the conclusion either she'd killed him, or he'd put her in the nut house.

He'd started snatching her books from her arms as soon as she entered the school; holding them hostage high above her head until she let him walk her to and from class, during which he'd list the reasons she should _want_ to go out with him (humility wasn't on the list), and how much fun they'd have (of which she was sure they had _very_ different definitions of). And lets not forget the Monday when, high off his own fun, he followed her down the hallway, tugging at her hair saying "com'on Wendy, ya know ya want to," even after people started to stare.

...Connie had stopped speaking to her. And their mildly warming relationship had taken Mr. Wells' time machine back to the stone age. All Connie ever graced her little sister with now was the frostiest of ice, if Wendy so much as glared her way, at home or in the hall. Green ice in her eyes, and unsubtle venom in her voice, leaving her alone with a mouthful of salty, burning misery. It wasn't _fair._

Even the other members of their group were getting a testy with it.

"You want me to have a talk with 'im, Wen?" Randy asked her, after the hair-pulling incident. To which she declined, if only because Randy still had the busted lip from the last "talk" he had with Jack. The only one could've done it successfully was probably Bob, who was both higher in their pecking order and raw size.

And who was taking to much enjoyment out of the thing to want too do any such thing.

"Just go out with him, Wen," was his lazy-given advice. "Put the poor guy out of his misery."

"What about _her_ misery, Bob?!" Cherry snapped back, face reddening. Things went south from there.

"He won't leave me alone!" Wendy complained about five minutes later; as she, Cherry, Marcia and Peggy walked home together, declining to ride when Bob apparently saw no problem in allowing Jack to join them in the car (as they left, Wendy could hear Randy giving them both an earful).

Peggy patted her arm, and Marcia nodded sympathetically.

"I'll bet, hon," she said, gentle as honey, though she couldn't stop herself from trying to butter it up a bit, so it sounded better then it was. "I think it cause ya making 'im work for it. He never really had to with Lils or ya sister...or anybody. Guess he see's ya as a catch," she finished with forced brightness.

Wendy's head was staring to ache something awful, and she hugged her books to her. "I'm not a baseball. And I'm not a catch anyways. He's probably doing this to mess with Connie."

Cherry pressed her lips, glazing up at the sky before blowing out a breath. "I don't know what to tell ya, Wen. Other than hope he gets bored fast and moves on."

Wendy was ashamed to say she let out groan that was half a whine. "How long will _that_ take?"

The best her friends could offer up were uncertain shrugs, as browned and rotted leaves blew around them in the wind.

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so I hope you tell me what you think.

Okay, so Wendy is in a pickle, but her friendship with Johnny has deepened. I hope you got a kick out of her making fun of the Curtis boys names, I think we are a little to use to Sodapop and Ponyboy.


	16. Hellens House

Leohart:I hope you find simular wisdom here in this chapter my friend.

Leohart2: slowburn is the best romance in my opinion in books, especially when the people are thinkers.

Leohart3: Those are good points on wher Connie falls short and fails.

guest: Oh Connie diffnatly won't forget that nickname, it's here to stay.

Riariabookworm: I'm so glad you love Wendy and my style. It means the world! And I had some technical difficulties that made me post twice. Sorry bout that.

lulusgardenfli: Your praise and review are honestly the best! you put so much thought into them! Thank you!

bookgirl18 : More Johnny and Wendy coming up!

* * *

Chapter XVI

* * *

S*S

A long, _long_ , time, was apparently the answer. Thankful, something Randy must've said (err, well yelled) had Jack turning it down to a slightly more bearable level. Well, at least to the point where Wendy could get though the day without him hanging off her dead leach. Which meant that she could go home without worrying if her sister was going to feed her a poisoned apple or smother her in her sleep. Huh, she could see her own obituary now: _Wendy Marie Allen, dead at fifteen. Cause of death, Sister's uncontrollable envy. She will be missed._

Still that didn't mean things were suddenly alright or back to normal. Oh no, of course it didn't. The day Cherry invited her over to her house for some girl time put that hope into a early grave.

The were seated before Cherry's canopy bed, sorting through nail polish until Cherry chose a pale pink and Wendy picked a magenta shade of blue.

It was nice, and Wendy was enjoying herself when in the middle of Cherry painting her nails, the redhead bit her lips and shuffled, before taking a breath and looking up briskly.

"Say...Wendy..." she started, like she was going to pull a tooth. "That um...English partner you got...Johnny Cade right?"

It was the first time Cherry had ever said Johnny's name, and she did it...not exactly rudely...but like she was trying to place distant between him and her by using his full name. Wendy brow furrowed.

"Yeah...?" she said slowly, trying not to let any bite creeping up in her blood spread itself in her voice -really now, Cherry didn't know Johnny, she wasn't his friend, it stood to reason that she'd talk about a bit more formally, with distance. But something about this was starting to twist in that primordial place in her gut again.

"Ya...would ya say ya'll were just partners...or friends?" Cherry hedged, still sitting pin straight, and playing with her hair once she was done with Wendy's hand. Wendy pulled it back, and fanned it slowly to dry it.

"...We probably wouldn't be friends if we hadn't become partners," she answered back. "But yes...I think he's my friend. And I know I'm his."

Cherry winced. "I was afraid of that."

Wendy started, and stared hard at her out right. Aside from checking to make sure Wendy was alright that first day of school, she had been hands off in regards to Wendy's dealing with Johnny. And why wouldn't she be? She was Wendy friend, not her sister.

"Why?" she asked out loud, wanting some sense. "What difference does it make? Why would that bother you?"

Cherry jumped a little, and her eyes flashed, though the older girl reined it in. "I'm not the one whose bothered Wen. Tell me, have ya gone to the Library together?"

"...Yeah? Why?"

Cherry gaped at her, honest to goodness speechless. "Glory Wendy, are ya _tryin'_ to get that boy killed?!"

Warning bells that had started ringing in Wendy's head were roaring like sirens now, and she stared while her hands clenched.

"Cherry," she said slowly. "...What. Do. You. _Mean_?"

"I _mean_ that Beth Mays saw ya in the library together and couldn't keep her fat mouth shut. Well done Wendy. _Well. Done,_ " Cherry snapped.

The library...shoving aside the horrible feeling of have her skin turned inside out, Wendy narrowed her eyes. "You pulling my leg. Why on earth would Beth Mays come within five miles of a Library? Does she even _know_ how to read?"

"She drove her sister to renew the kid's books,"Cherry huffed. "But that's not the problem."

"What is the _problem?"_ Wendy reiterated.

"I told ya! Beth say ya, and but since she knew ya were partners, she didn't find it interesting eough to say nothin'. But now with this new mess with Jack..." Cherry thinned her lips. "Well, she was always sweet on him -God knows they deserved each other- so I think she was tryin' to win some brownie points when she tossed that little tidbit to Bob and Jack. And course, they did the logical thing of thinkin' that the boy's messin' with ya, and that's why ya not interested in Jack."

 _"What?!"_

"Uh-huh. That's what I said when I heard it," disgusted, Cherry ran a hand over her forehead. "Wendy...do ya understand how _bad_ this could've been? Bob doesn't know Johnny Cade from Adam, but he was talkin' 'bout _jumping_ him."

By now, the cords connection Wendy's brain to her speech were going haywire. "Jump him?"

Cherry lean forward, eyes very fierce, her word very slow. "They were gonna catch him off guard and beat him up. For talkin' to ya."

That primordial knot had turned into a noose at this point. Wendy didn't say anything. She couldn't. And whatever was in her face made Cherry softened, and reach over to grasp Wendy's hand.

"But its okay Wen," she said decorously. "Marcia, Randy, and I talked 'em down...well...Randy did. Ya should've heard 'im. I swear he's the only one of the lot that thinks things through ever. He mentioned that you would've told somebody if he were botherin' ya. And that if they landed him in the hospital, your grade could suffer and that wouldn't win any points with ya."

Then the redhead paused and shuffled again. "But all he said to work 'em rounds borders on you not givin' a thought to Johnny Cade outside the classroom. I don't mean to tell ya what to do but...if I were ya...I'd avoid the library, and find some other place to work on ya stuff...and Wen? If it were me...I'd tell him what a thin line he's walkin'. Ya...ya know?"

...When she could, Wendy nodded.

"Ya...I know."

For a while they were silent and let it hang between them. Then Wendy blinked as she realized something.

"Wait a minute," she said eyes darting with thought. "Beth likes Jack. Jack likes me for now. Beth hates me...so...she...tries to help Jack _get with me?"_

Cherry blinked as well. "Hadn't thought 'bout that but...yeah, that's pretty much it...dang Wen, ya right, she _is_ another level of dumb."

* * *

S*S

That was why, next English class, Wendy was careful to not to catch Johnny's eye as she slide into her seat. Or Beth Mays for that matter, but for a very different reason. It would hardly be fair to Mr. Syme if she got blood all over his classroom. But Johnny wasn't stupid, and the embers in his eyes churned quietly as he tried to catch her eye and ferret out what going on. It was awful unfair, and she finally allowed their gazes to meet while passing up the day's work, and she mouthed 'meet after class.' And he nodded one, acknowledging.

Class couldn't end soon enough -but at the same time, with every tick of the clock she dreaded it. What on God's good earth was she going to say to him? 'O, your one of the nicest people I've ever meet, but you might want to double think being friends with me, cause it might get you killed.'

She wince. Somehow, she couldn't imagine that sounding better outside her head than inside it.

She couldn't even believe she was even thinking it, Wendy fumed. Mama had sometimes told stories like this, from back in the old country...of the gypsy incarnation of a 'jumping' that her brothers had conducted, to teach a fresh young man how to talk to their sister. But Jack and Bob were _not_ her brothers. And there motives were anything but selfless. And honestly, she didn't tell Cherry, but Bob was worse. Jack had a reason...a stupid reason, but a reason...but Bob had no skin in this. He just wanted to hurt someone.

This was stuff a girl like Connie or Lilian should be dealing with, not _her._ For G-d's sake, she wasn't Audrey Hepburn or Liz Taylor...she was only Wendy. Just Wendy.

And soon enough, the bell rang and there classmates were running free, and as she packed up her bag, Wendy saw Johnny motioning for Steve Randle to go on ahead. Which he did...after waiting to give Wendy a scowl that was half warning, and half plain-ol'-nasty.

Johnny rolled his eyes as his friend finally scooted.

"Sorry, 'bout him," he drawled with a half smile. "If the Queen of England showed up and offered 'im a box of gold, he'd give her the same look."

When she said nothing, his head tilted and frowned, uncertainty.

"...Wen?" he asked, rasp coming a little stronger. "Hey...ya okay?"

"Um...yeah," she forced out, a bit louder than she meant to. "I just..."

She trailed off, kicking herself. Johnny shuffled, then rolled a shoulder towards her.

"So...you want to head to the libary an' -"

"No," she blurted, with what coherent thoughts she could muster, though she winced again when Johnny blinked at the volume of the word. Taking a breath, she forked up a smile to let him know that of all things in this world, he was the last on list of what was causing her mood.

"Erm, no," she said softly, readjusting her bag strap. "Actually, I was hoping we could go someplace else today..."

Johnny grew more alert at that. And more curious.

"Where too?"

"You'll know when we get there," she assured him. And it was a sign of how much he trusted her that so little information was enough for him, as Johnny scooped up his supplies and inclined his head towards the door.

"Lead on," he said.

* * *

S*S

She lead him the other end of the school, out the cafeteria for two reasons, one, less chance of being seen. Two...it was easier to enter into the woods that way. During the summer, when she and the twins explored many of the old and faded paths through the woods, they has discovered a surprising secret roadway across Tulsa.

One such roadway started behind an boarded up store that had yet to be tore down. It was no difficulty to meander round back, slip through the broken fence and walk the start of the Green Mile, as the twins had named it. Though now with the coming of autumn it was the Red-Gold-Brown Mile. Not quiet as catchy.

Now those tall hemlock-sheaves were bent and withered, and above linen leaves were falling, one by one, with the faintest whispering of 'goodbye' to their friends, who still clung to the branches, while they cascaded downward to their mortal destination, the dying embers in a fire-pit.

Some clung to Johnny's hair as he cracked his neck looking back and fourth, looking around.

"Glory, I've lived in Tulsa all m' life, but I've never seen nothin' of this," he remarked softly, catching a branch in hand, tugging it along before letting it go.

"Sometimes I wonder if you've gone through life ya eyes shut, Johnny Cade," Wendy teased with a faint smile, hugging her bag closer.

Johnny considered. Maybe he had, a little. It was a trick you learned on the east side, for when you saw things you didn't want to. Awful things. But...apparently blocking the bad stuff meant you also didn't see the good. Lousy trade off.

"It's beautiful," he said instead, glad that because Wendy was leading, she couldn't see his eyes were on her as much as the foliage.

"It is isn't it?" she said. "We're almost there."

Soon enough, they rounded a bend and came into a clear right out of Pony's folklore books, and if the ruined house on the other side of the pond was still standing, the image would've been perfect. But as it were, it was still tuff-looking. And without thought to it, his feet were pulled towards it, like copper to flint.

"So...Johnny," Wendy muttered, twisting her fingers. "There...something..."

But he was distracted, fire lighting in his mind as he snapped his fingers.

"I think I know what this place is, Wen," he said, pointing. "This is the old Hellens House."

His friend jumped, and those eyes of her grew wide as twin moons. "What?"

"The Hellens House," he repeated, rolling his shoulder. "It's a local legend 'round here. Kinda a sad one too."

Wendy looked from him, to the house they were approaching, and back to him. "Sad...why?"

"Well, story goes that when Old Man Hellens's oldest son, Anthony, got back from the Great War, he was...what do they call it? Shell shock? Anyways, he'd have horrible fits at night. See things that weren't there. One fit was so bad, he knocked a light over and started a fire. Burning the whole dang place down...and his parents and siblings with it." he cocked his head and clicked his cheek. "But Anthony got out, and got arrested, tried, and hung from the yardarm for arson and kin-killin'."

By now they had reached the house, and Johnny had placed his hand on what remained of the window shutter, peering inside curiously. From what remained of the front parlor, it had been a nice place.

"But...why?" Wendy faltered. "He didn't do it on purpose..."

"Must've had a shit-lawyer," Johnny said without thinking, then winced when he realized he'd sworn in front of her. His hand pulled at his hair. "Uh, sorry Wen. But also...don't think they really understood things like shell shock back then. Hell, there are guys who're comin' back from 'Nam now who got somthin' like it, and doctors can't fix 'em."

"Still...that's awful..." Wendy breathed softly. And he nodded in agreement but finished the story.

"Legend said that Anthony Hellens' ghost shows up when ya about to have a death in the family. Plenty of folks have said they seen 'im."

Wendy paled before biting her lip and stepping over to him. "Come on, let get away-"

But Johnny had frozen, and shushed her. "Did ya hear that?"

But Wendy didn't get a chance to answer. Her weight, combined with his own, was enough that the thin wooden door they were mistakenly standing on shattered under their feet, and sent them a good seven feet below into the dark.

* * *

S*S

Wendy whined when she first hit the bottom, curling instinctively into the fetal position and then stretching out, making sure she had no broken bones. Aside from the ache in her...everything...she thought she was good. Doubly so when Johnny groaned, then cursed, then forced himself up to scramble over to her. Making it perfectly plain that he was alright as well. That's when she started breathing again.

"Christ Wendy, ya okay?" Johnny asked, hand on her arm, pulling her up. She nodded.

"Yeah...lucky for us, the landing was soft," she remarked, offering a little smile. Johnny snorted softly and leaned back on his heels.

"Speak for ya-self," he half joked, before looking around them, brow furrowed. Wendy did the same. It was a square shaped hole, and the broken bits of the door that lay around them, and still hung on the hinges, told that it was purposely dug.

"Where are we?"

"Storm cellar, from the looks o' it," Johnny answered, standing up cautiously, too run his hands over the walls.

"Storm cellar?" Wendy questioned.

"For twisters," Johnny explained, and Wendy thought of the Wizard of Oz. "Ah."

Then a more serious matter occurred to her, and she stood as well. "Johnny, how are we gonna get out of here?"

The walls were too steep to climb, with no roots or handhelds available to help out. And the remains of an old ladder, which might of been the Hellens' family way of getting in and out was far too rotted for any earthly use.

Johnny hissed out a breath and yanked his hair as his puzzled it, 'fore heaving a sigh and turning to her.

"You think if you got on my back, ya could reach the top?"

Wendy considered, judging the distant above them, and shook her head. "I'm too small. Besides, even if I could, what would I grab to pull myself over the edge? There nothing there to hold."

Johnny cursed again, quietly. And went back to thinking. After a moment he sighed. "Then I'm open for suggestions."

Wendy considered, and flinched at the thought of people noticing them missing. Oh, this was not good...not good at all -

But just before she could fully wallow in self-pity, two out of three familiar voices began to pipe up, unseen.

"You know Wendy wouldn't like it if she knew we came home through the Green Mile..."

"Wendy doesn't have to know, plus this way, Bonnie doesn't need a bus pass."

"Yep," a little girl voice -one that made Johnny's jaw drop- giggled. "And it so pretty!"

"Glad you like it -"

"Sam! Eric!" Wendy shrieked out, whether out of relief that they were here or irritation that they were braking her rules she couldn't tell. "Boys, get over here!"

The sounds of walking stop, and she could just imagine the looks on the kids' faces. "Wendy? Where are you?"

"By the house near the pond. I'm stuck here with a friend."

It first time she'd said that out-loud for another person to hear...not counting Cherry. The sound of rushing feet started up again, and soon the twins and a gray eye little girl with a Minnie Mouse hair bow were peering down at them, gaping.

"Johnny! What are you doin' at the bottom of a well?" she exclaimed.

"It's not a well, Bon, its..." then he blinked. "Ah, forget it. Look, Bonnie, ya know the Curtis House number?"

"I would hope I did," Bonnie Matthews said. Johnny nodded.

"Then get to a phone and tell Mr. C or Superman that we're stuck here and need a rope to get out," he instructed. "Can ya do that?"

Bonnie jumped up, and raised her hand in an army salute that the twins copied. "Consider it done sargent. We'll have you out not time."

With that, she and Eric took off. Sam started too, but then he paused look back down at them.

"We're fine Sam," Wendy encouraged. "Go on."

But Sam didn't, and raised an eyebrow instead. "What was that rule about not play near the ruined house again?"

Oh brother. Little brothers. Wendy pinched her nose. "Sam. _Go_."

Sniggering, he did. And Wendy heaved a sigh. "Kids."

At the moment there sounded like no worse word in the world.

"Tell me 'bout it," Johnny muttered, and from the look on his face, he wasn't just thinking of Bonnie. A sudden breeze from above blew more leaves like embers into their pit, and there was nothing to do but wait.

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so I hope you tell me what you think.

Okay, so more drama at school and a hint of events that ended up leading to Johnny's jumping. And some more ghost stories! I think I've been reading to much Stephan King books and watching his movies...what do you think? Plus I think Johnny handled himself really well in their situation, like he did with Pony in the book. Keeping it together, keeping it cool.


	17. Invitation

RockabillyHippie: I love your review! And I hope to have more from you soon! Your fun to read! And yes, great minds do think alike.

lulusgardenfli: There's so much layering and characterization here even when the characters aren't directly in the scene, Yes I'm trying to perfect that skill. It the bread and butter of writing.

Phoenix Arisen Again: Glad you enjoyed it, and gad to hear from you again.

* * *

Chapter XVI

* * *

S*S

"For the love o' God, Darry. Open us two bottles o' beers-" Darrel Curtis Senior drawled lazily, muscles cracking as he rolled his neck, large hands fiddling with his tool-belt. " 'Fore we die from lack o' alcohol. Feel like Ah'm back in Goddamn Prohibition."

His firstborn rolled his eyes, but grinned as as he moved his way to the ice box father and son had set up outside the family's work shed, as they tinker and polished away with repairing an burnt table top for Mrs. Matthews. Since the good woman had no man in her house with no sort of craftsmanship skill (lookin' at you, Two-Bit), they'd volunteered to fix it up and save the lady the cash she didn't have to get it replaced.

...Though exactly how the Matthew's dinner table ended up being _set on fire_ was still well beyond Darry. Though his father was less perplex.

"Put a bored, drunk-as-a-sunk Kieth Matthews n' a lighter toget'er, and just be damn grateful that he didn't burn his whole damn house down," Dare remarked drily, with the wisdom only years of seeing shit would grant a man. "Surprise Maria don't tan his hind."

Darry snorted as he retrieved the beers by their skinny glass stems with one hand, meandering back over. "Ahh, Dad, you know Mrs. Matthews a good Italian mama -she don't blame Two-Bit for nothin'. Not even if he did burn their house down."

Dare clinked his cheek and inclined his head to the point, knowing it was so. But before he could add any more, the whooshing screech of the back door swinging open raised both their brown, cow-licked heads, as Molly put a bare foot out, cupping her hand to her mouth.

"Dare, phone rang for you." Her eyes showed she meant business. Straightening with greater alertness, Dare briefly touched his son's shoulder before heading over; that same hand curling around his Mississippi-girl's little waist, drawling her close while drawing them into their house.

"What's up, hon?" he asked her, and Molly bite her lip, the very way their Ponyboy did; fingers pushing Goldilocks hair from her face.

"I don't actually know, honest...but they asked for you...see for yourself-"

She gestured to the telephone that she had left waiting. Brow furrow, Dare picked it up, running a list through his head to see if there were any bills accidentally left unpaid, or any favors left un-settled in the neighborhood.

 _Well, 'bout to find out._

"Yes, who is this?" he inquired, voice dropping the warmth reserved for his friends, his children, and his girl. For all he knew, this was business. Though he was forced to reconsider that when an uncertain child's voice resounded in his ear.

 _"Um...is this Mr. Curtis?"_ someone obviously very young answered him. Dare blinked, and dispute himself, found his shoulders un-tensing, and his rein on his voice tone loosen.

"Yes, this is, and who are you, son?" he said.

 _"Um...my name's Sam Allen, Mr. Curtis. I guess ya don't really know me, but you know a Johnny Cade right?"_

He straightened again. He always did, with the slightest mention Chief Joe Cade's nephew, a habit formed, over and over, at just how hard a hand life had seen fit give that boy.

"Yes, I do son," he answered. "What about 'im?"

 _"Well, he's in a little bit of trouble sir. You see, he's stuck in a well with my sister."_

* * *

S*S

"He's stuck in a well with some kid's sister?" Darry echoed for tenth-time, since he and his old man had clambered into the pickup, a mile's length of rope tossed in the back, and sojourned out to the address one Sam Allen had given. To the the tall cotton side of town, far from their kind, and even father from the earth where God had made Adam. It was a gradual thing, the increase in wealth, showing in the better paved roads, the lack of litter, the gals dressed nicer -like they were gals, then gals trying to hard to be the worse sort of women.

"That's what the boy said," Dare answered patiently, though he was anything but patience, his cigarette pinched hard between his fingers, out the rolled down window, smoke flying out with the note of _Follow that Dream,_ sung from the voice of a Tenseness boy like himself:

 _"Johnny?"_ Darry asked again, as if he'd heard martians had set up shop on Independence Street. _  
_

"Well, it sure ain't Pony, if ya askin'..."

Darry whistled, shaking his head. Before he stopped, and his eyes narrowed, getting that figuring look. "You said the kid's name was Allen?"

"It is indeed...Sam Allen."

"You...ya don't think this would have anythin' to do with Johnny's little school buddy, do ya...what's-her-name...Wendy?"

Dare snorted, his mouth pulling loose and wide and tight, with just a small degree of the sin that had once tempted his wife, back when they were kids and she was still a maid.

"Ah'll eat the full length o' that rope back there in that truck if it don'."

 _I've got to follow that dream wherever that dream may lead...I've got to follow that dream to find the love I need..._

Darry's eyebrow winged up as he either consider the metal image of that, or of the possibilities opened by such a reality. His voice softened, slightly. "...God, knows Johnnycakes deserves a win for once."

"Um'hem," Dare nodded, dragging his smoke. "He does indeed."

When they pulled up to the given address, Dare shook his head slightly at the gluttony of the house before -way larger than any one family needed. Hell, the damn lawn -immaculate and still green, even in November -was a larger amount of property than the entire Curtis estate.

Two identical boys with bright robin eyes, who had been shooting the breeze on their front step, hopped down and wandered over, sticking shoulder to shoulder, more so when they show just how much their guests towered over 'em -two Davids and Goliaths.

"Hi," one said. "Are you Mr. Curtis?"

"Indeed I am," Dare confirmed, nodding briskly. "And this is my son -Darry."

"Nice to meet ya, sir," the lead kid said, holding out a hand. Brows lifted, Dare engulfed it in his own for a brief shake, and Darry did likewise when the twin -Sam, he assumed- offered him the same.

"So, Johnny and Wendy are a little ways passed the backyard," Sam narrated as the boys lead them around their shinning house, and then across their yard into the woods.

Both Curtis' exchanged a glance at the confirmation of what the suspected, though they keep that paticular thought to themselves. Instead Darry asked what was also on his mind.

"How exactly did they get stuck in a well?"

"I donno," Sam shrugged. "The well is near an old abandoned house Wendy always told us not to play near."

Then the boy sniggered and his dark eyes gleamed along with his twin. "But if you ask me, I think they were swapping spit and fell in."

By this time, Dare knew he had a huge ass smile carved firmly onto his face. And there it remind when they came into a clearing, and it became apparent just how dire the situation really was.

* * *

S*S

"Ninety-one bottles o' beer on the wall, ninety-one bottles o' beer," Bonnie Matthews sang out. "Take one down, pass it around, ninety bottles o' beer on the wall..."

The little girl was cheerfully perched on the edge of the storm-hole, her legs dangling merrily above her captive audience's heads. She had come back to informed them that the twins had made successful contact with Mr. Curtis. And then abruptly plopped down in order to keep 'em company. It was a gesture Wendy had naively mistaken for sweet, though the way Johnny suddenly looked worried should've tipped her off.

And know, a full decade of bottles of beer on the wall later, Wendy could safely say she had been relived of that notion.

Worse, neither Johnny or herself could muster up the words to tell the little girl that she sound like a cat being cruelly tortured by the Spanish Inquisition.

So they pressed their mouths and endured.

"Ninety bottles of beer on the wall, ninety bottles of beer-"

"Whoa, easy there Bonnie," and older masculine voice drawled in a bark of laughter. One that lifted Johnny's head up like a flare. "Ah think that's enough beer for one day."

"Hiya Mr. Curtis," Bonnie greeted cheerfully, bouncing up and pointing into the hole. "They're down there."

The sound of footsteps came closer, and pretty soon, the silhouette of her brothers, and two oxen of a man -one with a blessed length of rope thrown over his shoulder.

"Well indeed they are," the older of the two men hummed, grinning. He nodded to Johnny. "Kid."

"Hey Mr. C," Johnny answered back, before he turned her way, and made her flush when the man tipped his baseball cap to her. "And you must be the famous Wendy."

That had Johnny flushing an interesting shade of beet red besides her, and Wendy couldn't make herself glance over at him.

"Well, I don't know about that sir-"

"But we sure do," the younger man interrupted with broad, evil smirk. "Isn't that right, Johnnycakes?"

Johnny groaned and dropped his head into his hand, while Bonnie and the boys' "ooooo'd" with glinting eyes.

"...Ya, know what? I think I'm just gon' stay right here in this hole," he muttered. "Just stay right on here in this hole."

"Well, you can have that wish for a bit, Johnny-Be-Good," Mr. Curtis graciously offered, swinging the rope down off his shoulder and going about the business of knotting it into a loop. "Ladies, first, am Ah right?"

Little bit later, While Mr. Curtis pulled, his son was taking hold of Wendy's arms, tugging her above ground like she weighted nothing. Then it was Johnny's turn, which, despite his proclamation, he accepted without fuss.

Once they both were pulled up and dusted up, Mr. Curtis cleared his tan throat.

"Well it's certainly very nice to meet ya, Wendy, Ah can see why English has become Johnny's favorite subject."

That turned 'em both another shade of red, and send the kids into shrieks of giggles, and a chorus of "Johnny and Wendy, sitting in a tree. K-I-S-E-I-N-P-"

That got 'em a baffled _what-the-heck_ look from Darry -not dissimilar from the one Mama had- which sent the trio running off into their next adventure...far, far away. Wendy groaned, and rubbed her eyes briefly, and when she looked up, she offered weakly -"Little brothers..."

Darry clucked his tongue and looked at her with wry kinship. "Yeah, I hear ya."

Meanwhile, through all that, Mr. Curtis didn't miss a beat. "Well, it's gettin' rather late, so we sould be seeing ourselves on home. And I'm sure Johnny wouldn't object to walkin' ya to your door."

That made 'em shuffle, and discover yet another tone to the ever increasing spectrum of crimson. But Johnny lifted his burning face, cool eyed, and nodded at the challenged.

"Sure don't," he said. Mr. Curtis' smile dragged out even more lazily.

"Good," he dragged out, slowly. " Then I'm also sure ya would mind bringing her over for dinner this Sunday, ain't that right Johnnycakes?"

"...Sure don't."

Mr. Curtis slapped his hands together, making them both jump. "Well know that's that's settle, come on, let get on home."

As promised, once their party was safely out of the Green Mile, Johnny walked her up to her back door on the three season porch, hands in his pockets and his chewed his lip.

"Ya know, if you don't want to come to dinner on Sunday, they won't be mad or nothin'-" he started, but Wendy rushed to cut him off.

"No, no...I want to, I would like to..." she shuffled again, holding onto the swing door like it was the safe zone in tag.

"If you don't mind..." she added softly. Johnny shook his head firmly.

"Heck no I don't mind. Just...be ready, we don't live...well...it's not like this," he tilted his head back, pointing with his chin to her house.

"Okay," Wendy said. And something in embers of Johnny's eyes burned softer.

"...Well, okay then," he said, walking backwards, and grinning wider then she'd ever seen him. He came near to tripping himself on the garden hose, though he righted himself in time. And he was still grinning besides. "See ya then."

"See you then," Wendy returned, pressing her mouth to the door frame. She stayed their until Johnny and his friends had mosey around the front of the house. Then let out the little squeal that had been begging to be set free.

Of course, that was also when she remembered that she hadn't gotten to tell him what she'd set out to do in the first place.

* * *

S*S

Darry whooped the moment they reached the car, head-locking Johnny and dragging him in a rodeo worthy circle. "Well you little son of a gun."

"Ah, Dar, c'mon, let go!" Johnny protested, trying to wiggle free. Chuckling, the older boy complied.

"That, my friend, is one fine lookin' little girl," he announced. "And did'ya see the way she watched you, Johnnycakes? I don't know the hell you did, boy, but you got that one on a line. Been dabblin' in Voodoo or some Indian medicine?"

"Have you been hanging around Two-Bit more recently?" Johnny drawled back, taking a comb from his pocket and fixing his hair.

Darry snorted as they boarded the pickup, and his father chuckled. "Naw, Johnny just got his Uncle Joe's style, reel 'em in with that silent charm."

Johnny grinned with pleasure at the comparison, hopping in the back. Though he frowned as he did.

"What'da'ya think the others are gonna say?" he wondered out loud.

"They ain't gon' say nothin' Johnny," Mr. Curtis promised him firmly. "Ah guaran-damn-teed you that."

Johnny blinked, but then he softened. "Thanks..."

"Don't mention it Johnnycakes."

* * *

S*S

"You shittin' me?"

Molly was over in an instant, hands on her hips. "Dally, please, no language at the dinner table."

But for once, Winston wouldn't heed her, instead fixing his gaze on Darry, Johnny, and himself. "Ya gonna bring a little Soc _here_? On our turf?"

"Well it ain't like were planning the invasion of Normandy Dal," Johnny defended himself. "Ain't nothin' here for her to notice-"

Winston snorted, cold and bone dry. "Ecept for all us hoods. Forgot that part?"

Pony bite his lip, and shuffled a tad closer to Pepsi-Cola, who immediately jump in.

"C'mon now," his boy mediated, pointing a fork in a wide circle around the table. "From all I've heard and seen, she ain't in to the whole thing -sides, her family seems fine...her brothers got no problem playing with Bon, right Two-Bit?"

"No problem at all," Two-Bit confirmed. "Their good kids, and from what Bonnie can get out of 'em, their sister been doing most of the raising. Their Mama died o' something nasty year back."

Of course, Molly damn near melted at that, like she'd just found a box of kittens on the front door step, accompanied by a small thunder cloud and a sad playing violin. "Oh...those poor little things."

Hell, even Steve's mouth twitched down a little, well remembering that pain in his own house.

Winston's face was straining with the effort to not say nothin'. If it wasn't for Molly, he wouldn't of held back -Dare was sure.

"You do what ya want Johnny," he finally said, drilling his eyes hard into him. "But don't be surprise if once she's sees how the other half lives, she ain't interested in being round no more."

Johnny held his gaze mildly, the two boys most alone outside this table locking gazes and holding it in silent conversion. Apparently, it didn't go how Winston wanted it too, cause he scowled and looked away when it was done.

But it wasn't done for Dare. That was why, when Winston stalked outside to the porch to smoke and cuss lowly at the moon, Dare followed, breathing his own trail of nicotine, eyeing the tow-head boy.

His mouth pressed. If boy was the right word to use...cause the innocence required for the term to fit just wasn't there. Hadn't been for as long as any of 'em had know this future corpse on the street. Instead, the punk's eyes were ruthless, and his smile held cracked mercy of one who already knew he was in his grave, but planned on cussing until the coffin lid was shut.

Needless to say, he had been less than thrilled when Winston first showed up, hanging round not only his kids, but the kids that circumstance had compelled him to keep an eye out for.

He'd never liked Winston -he couldn't, when he saw in his face what he once saw in his own, before Utah and the 90th Infantry and Battle of the Bulge and Flossenbürg had burned it away.

He didn't go for subtle. Winston was his wife's pet. Not his.

"You scare this girl, you talk mean to her, do anythin' to ruin what Johnny tryin' to get goin', and it will be the last time your ass is allowed inside my house," he hummed lightly, the ember of his cigarette glowing in the darkness. "Hear?"

Winston sneered, but meet his gaze lowly. " I hear."

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so I hope you tell me what you think.

Wasn't going to write during Lent, but with all this Corona Shit, I thought we all could use a pick me up. Stay safe and healthy people! God bless.

You will not fear the terror of night, nor the arrow that flies by day, nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness, nor the plague that destroys at midday. A thousand may fall at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you. ~Psalm 91


	18. Winds of Coming

Jcuret98:Sunday dinner is next chapter, but I hope you like what I got here with Johnny and Wendy!

bookgirl18: Hope your safe and healthy too.

Guest: Glad you like it!

Riariabookworm: Thanks I loved portarying Darrel sr too!

lulusgardenfli: There will be more Dally vs Dare next chapter, till then, enjoy!

Phoenix Arisen Again: I'm glad you enjoyed the boys and Dare's accent! Yeah, Dally has his point, and so do you about the creepy stalker Soc...

* * *

Chapter XVIII

* * *

S*S

"Sooo..." Pony drew out, putting too much effort into trying to make it casual, as they hung out under the bleachers -to the point where the kid hadn't realize he was still on that same page of his paperback copy of _Lord of the Rings_ for five minutes, as he pretended to read, while he and Johnny were at lunch. "Ya _really_ bringin' a Soc girl over for dinner next Sunday?"

Johnny pursed his lips and hastily reach for another fry from the basket placed between 'em. Like any food school-made, it wasn't the best. But it better than nothing, which was what consisted of his midday meals -his parents would never waste lunch money on 'im, so when he couldn't find a way to wrangle up some cash, he just went without. Got use to it.

He rolled his shoulder, forcing his suddenly dry throat to swallow that fry. "Donno -looks that way. But glory...wasn't my idea..."

"Yeah, given that I ain't seen ya talk to a girl since the fifth grade, I kinda figured," Pony drawled drily, rolling his eyes that were too damn big for a kid in high school. "But Dad does stuff like that all the time -'member when Darry nervous bout takin' his first girl -Debbie More- out, so he made sure not to fill the gas tank so they'd get stranded at the football game?"

Johnny winced, and sucked in air at the memory -especially at how the gang had rolled on the pavement laughing. Suddenly in the hot-seat, it didn't seem so funny.

"And how 'bout when Soda started to like Sandy, but didn't know how t' break the ice, Dad told 'im to spill water on her an' then apologize?"

Johnny snorted and grasped the back of his hair, balling it up before releasing it. "Shit. Forgot that one, man."

"'Pared to them, ya gettin' off easy, Johnnycakes," Pony nodded wisely. "Dad always had a soft spot for ya. So he'll make sure this dinner goes normal."

Johnny didn't like the sound of that. "...Normal?"

"Yeah," Pony continued on. "-Won't let Soda mess with the food or nothin' -ya know he an' Steve got that weird bet thing still goin' on an'-"

"I don't even wanna know, man-" Johnny interrupted, shaking his head. He was gonna say more, but the sudden eruption of voices and the crush of gravel comin' there way shut their mouths good, as the bleachers steps pounded, and flashes of madras and eight brand new canvas sneakers peered between the slabs of metal.

Johnny felt his shoulders stiffen, and sensed Pony's doing likewise. The bleachers were Greaser turf during this part of the day -hell these Socs think they were? If Two-Bit or Steve or Soda were with 'em, making it more even, they might've come out to remind 'em...but they couldn't. He could never do anything.

And they could leave without being seen...so they stuck here like cats in a tree. Listening in. While two Soc laughed at their buddy and another steamed.

"I can't believe she did that-" one Soc was exclaiming in disbelief. The was sound of air rushing sharply over fabric, and bits of ketchup flew downward, landing on Johnny tattered old shoes like blood spots. He grimaced 'fore wiping 'em clean. Though he felt his brow furrow as he tried to piece together what the hell was going on.

"Realle, Jackie?" slurred another, a flask held in one hand that flashed with a set of rings that would put Pharaoh to shame, in that Charlton Heston movie. His hand wasn't steady, and this guy was serious blitzed, cause liquid amber poured onto Pony's head, worse onto his book, making the kid scoot sideways in repulsion. 'Cause th' rest'a us could'ee from a mile off -it's always th' nice ones that'll get ya."

" _Nice_ being the key word here -" cut in a third party -something in this ones tone 'minding Johnny of Darry. "Jesus man...ya already screwin' her sister three ways to Sunday. The hell you want both 'em for? Just let the kid be and give it up. If her lunch tray ain't clue 'nough, let me spell it out for ya... _She's-ain't-interested."_

Ketchup Soc snorted and from the shadows playing out like a puppet show, he was pointing a finger at the guy. "There ain't no family that can breed a little backseat wildcat and a square in one house. You wouldn't believe the things Connie can do-"

He went on in the most dis-reputed language than Johnny ever heard, even in bull sessions with the gang...maybe because in the bull sessions, everyone but Pony knew that it was just that. Bull. Not real, didn't happen, had no chance in hell of ever happening. This guy...this Soc...he could hear it in his voice. Truth. Bare bone and skag ass ugly. Cause the things he was talking 'bout with this girl...sure, guys liked to get some. Always had, always would, loved the pride that came with having scored. Two-bit and Darry and Dally could testify to that.

But their kicks never sounded like a vampire draining the life from someone. Pony had turned an odd shade of chalk white. Johnny felt sure he wasn't no better.

Even the other Socs seemed to have been stunned into silence. Even the booze-hound.

The third guy who talked like Darry slumped down, like an old man who'd given up in exhausted.

"...Christ man," he said, in disgusted exasperation. "Ya think the kid would ever give ya the time of day, if she knew that's how you treated her sister? Treated any girl? So assumin' a piano falls on her head and she someday agrees to go out with ya...you honestly think a decent girl like her wouldn't run screaming?"

Ketchup's shadow held up his hands. "Hey, hey, okay. I get it. She's gonna need a slower pace 'fore the fun stuff. I get it. I can work with it."

The bell signaling the end of lunch, and thank Jehovah, an end to Johnny and Pony's time as a captive audience. Scrambling for Will Rogers quick as they could, trying to out run what they heard.

"I think I need a shower," Pony muttered, shuddering in correlation, still very white. Johnny hissed threw his teeth and threw an arm round the younger boy's neck, pressing what strength he could through the contact.

"I know," he murmured back, feeling a little unclean himself...and hoping it would go 'way for he'd met up with Wendy. He already felt dirty 'nuff round her. "Just...try not to think about it, kay?"

"Sure, Johnny, that'll work," Pony grumbled back, hitching his schoolbag a little higher.

* * *

S*S

"I can't believe you did that Wendy," Peggy boggled again, as she, Marcia, and Cherry hovered 'round her in the girls room -where they had quickly hustled her after the incident in the lunch room, to calm her down.

"Neither can I," Wendy confessed in a hiccup, swiping adrenaline sprung tears out of her eyes and breathing deeply, as Cherry slapped another damp paper towel to her neck. She wasn't hurt -just overwrought. "I've never done anything like that in my life."

Cherry sniffed imperiously, and her eyes flashed. "First time for everythin' Wen. And there ain't nobody that can say he didn't have it comin'. Sides, he looked good with ya lunch tray all over 'im."

Marcia hummed sagely in agreement. "A stupid spirit goes before the fall an' all that, am I right?"

Cherry and Wendy glanced at each other, mouths twitching. "It's pride goes 'fore the fall, Marc."

"Oh...well, not much difference then, is there?"

Wendy giggled. Maybe not as fully as she might've, but more than she would've imagined, moments before. And she felt a rush of warmth for the girls.

"No," she chirped, linking her arm through Marcia and grinning as they headed out the door. "No there's not."

* * *

S*S

The rest of the day went without incident, Jack apparently deciding he needed a break from her. Which was more than agreeable to Wendy. She might not have another tray of hot dog and french fries to splatter all over him, but she did at all times carry some immensely heavy books that would _not_ be agreeable if they were -say- dropped on a certain someone's foot.

So all and all, she was in a reasonably good mood when she strolled in English, and took her seat next to Johnny, who flashed her a quirk of his lips as she fished out her supplies, setting them primly on her desk, 'fore smiling back.

Of course, nothing that good and easy could last, and Mr. Syme was the one to clip it as he handed out today assignment -a "study of theme in relation to the character you've chosen to follow through the novel".

"Brick," Steve muttered, surly, ignoing that they were more than halfway done, with how Mr. Syme was driving them.

"You have all class, and may turn to your partner for help," Mr. Syme continued, undaunted, hands behind his back, before pointing at each row of the classroom. "Ambition. Class. Crime. Sophistication. Redemption. Two paragraphs."

Ambition...Wendy twirled her pencil, refection on the word as she had read it often in the directory, given to her by Mama. _Adjective: having ambition; eagerly desirous of achieving or obtaining success, power, wealth, a specific goal, etc..._

She bite her lip. The character she'd chosen to "follow" was Miss. Havisham...which put her in a pickle, as Havisham wasn't so much ambitious as inspiring ambition in others...cruelly, meanly, and often to cause that character pain.

Johnny had it easy in this case...Pip's whole point was ambition, especially in contention to growth. Great Expectations was a bildungsroman:a story of the growth and development of its main character -Johnny had it laid out for him, and the steady pace that he moved his pencil showed it.

 **Dickens shows the ambition that Pip's got as a good and bad thing, with good and bad results. Pip's early ambitions focus on his getting out of his neighborhood, on making himself into someone who seems worthy of Estella -who still treats him like crap. But he turns himself into someone who feels like a fake, and turns his nose up to those who were good to him, such as Joe and Provis, and wastes his money.**

 **Through these things, Pip eventually comes to understand self-improvement is something as much inside as out -if you stay what you are inside as where you started -it doesn't matter where you go...you'll bring all your problems with you. Pip's own ambitions are echoed by the self-improvement efforts of secondary characters like Joe and Ms. Havisham, who learn to write and to feel sorry for others, respectively, at Pip's teaching.**

 _Show off,_ Wendy though fondly, with a happy bubbling of pride as Johnny finished it up, 'fore the black embers of his eyes glowed her way, mild and self-pleased. Inspired, she turned to her own page again.

 _Miss Havisham is the dark side of ambition. The side that reduces people to either goalposts or obstacles in way of your goal. Miss Havisham was the victim of such ambition, and then went on to victimized others. Including her own daughter, who can not love her. And Pip, who never harmed her. Her ambition is like a fire, it burns, and it burns others, but it's also burning herself. It will burn until there is nothing left._

 _Miss Havisham proves that ambition and self-improvement are not interchangeable. In refusing to recover from being left at the altar, Miss Havisham states her ambition. And she carries it on for the rest of her life, to its great decrement. But declaring herself a rotting corpse, she steals away the life from the people around her._

By the time she was dotting the last period, she was looking up at Johnny and bubbled when he saluted his pencil at her approvingly.

* * *

S*S

They headed home by way of the Green Mile again, though by this time, harsh winds like the ones blowing now what striped the trees nearly bare of all pretenses and glamor they could claim. It was so bitter outside that Wendy called it, and invited Johnny into the house -something that made those embers in his eyes go wide, like a deer in headlights.

"Wen? Ya...ya sure?" he asked, leaning back with his hands shoved firmly into his jacket pockets.

Though consider that she was standing there, holding the three season porch door open from him, ya had to wonder way. But she kept her tone gentle.

"Yeah, I sure," she told him. "Johnny we've been friends for two months now. More than two months I think its okay for you to come into my house. C'mon. We got homework."

...Still looking like this was against _all_ his better judgment, Johnny slowly crossed the last few steps, and passed the threshold. Soon as he did, and though he was ahead of her now, Wendy could sense the way his eyes swept over what she'd always assumed to be just an ordinary part of her house; with it white wicker chairs and table, glass blow vase and palm tree plant. But the way Johnny let the coals in his eyes sweep unreadably over the room...like it was the size of half his house...made her rethink it.

Wendy shuffled. Maybe this wasn't her best idea...

 _"To late for that chey,"_ Mama's voice drily told her. _"Vhen you go to the middle of the river, you must cross to the other side, Darlinh..."_

That was how her hand found his own, larger and more callused, once he relaxed enough to bring it out of his pocket.

"Come on, let go in and get warm," she told him. But she stay still, and didn't move till Johnny had breathed out, nodded, and moved on his own accord, coming into the house proper. The first thing that caught his eye was the chandelier that hung over the dinning table, and the china and delicate things encased behind glass.

"So...wanna get started?" Wendy asked, setting her school stuff on the table. Johnny looked hesitant to follow her example, but seemed reassure when the table didn't break once she put her bag upon it.

"Sure," he answered, sitting down besides her, in the spot that usually went to her father, spreading out the work packet.

What is the age of majority in England at this time? _Twenty-one._

What does Pip believe still about his fortune? **_That Miss Havisham means for him to marry Estella._**

Why is this unlikely? _Nearly every character in the book thinks otherwise._

...and so on and so forth. It went very peaceably, even cozy like, with the howl of wind beating the outside of the house. Then a sound form within matched it. It made Wendy sit up like a spooked cat.

"What was that?" she exclaimed, and saw Johnny ears turn red.

"Uh...that was me, Wen. My stomach, I mean," he explained hastily. Wendy's brow furrowed.

"You're hungry?" Johnny rolled a shoulder.

"Stomach thinks it is, 's all. Mind over matter."

Her brows narrowed. Translation: _yes_. She got up. And made her way into the kitchen. Johnny got halfway up with her.

"Wen, wait," he protested. "What are ya doin'?"

"Putting dinner on: spaghetti sound okay?"

Johnny paused, long fingers spread gently over the table."Wen...ya don't have to do that."

"Want to...sides, I'll have to make it later anyways when my brothers get home. Might as well start now."

"...Alright. But I'll help."

And he did, with an air of having work at a stove before, and with heavy, water filled pans for far longer than Wendy ever had. They were just getting the sauce ready when Johnny stiffened, neck craned as he stared out the window.

"Oh shit," he breathed. Startled, Wendy followed his gaze, and saw the twins tumbling out of car that had just pulled into the drive way. Followed by their father.

Her heart sunk a little. Oh. Oh dear.

Stumbling backwards, Johnny looked ready to mimic the cowardly lion, and jump out the window than meet the wizard. But he didn't, frozen in place; though he did looked to Wendy for some sort -any sort- of game plan. Doubly so, when her father's voice called out for her.

"In here Dad," she finally answered, ignoring how Johnny was looking at her like she'd grown two heads. A look that didn't really chance when Frank Allen meandered tiredly down the hall, stopping to stare at the strange young man standing in his kitchen.

* * *

Reviews make me happy, so I hope you tell me what you think -and feel free to check out my other Outsider story staring Sodapop, Of the Morning!

With all this Corona Shit, I thought we all could use a pick me up. Stay safe and healthy people! God bless.

When **the LORD** goes through the land to strike down the Egyptians, he **will** see the blood **on** the top and sides of the doorframe and **will pass over** that doorway, and he **will** not permit the destroyer to enter your houses and strike you down. Exodus 12:23


	19. Storm

lulusgardenfli: Frank and Johnny and the whole Allen family coming right up! Hope you like what I got here, its a wringer.

lovelyhatter:Ah, I'm glad you think Wendy's a Sweetheart! I hope you keep reviewing!

* * *

Chapter XXI

* * *

S*S

Shit. Shitshitshit-

Johnny wasn't no stranger to the rule Life seen fit to make him live under -the one which clearly stated, in black an' white, that everything that could go wrong would go wrong. Especially when things were just goin' good. He'd _knew_ this had been a lousy idea. His instincts weren't usually wrong on these things, and they'd been blaring like a fire engine the moment Wendy invited him inside. But just like the guy in the greek myth -the one that took twenty dang years gettin' home- he hadn't been able to resist the siren's song of wanting to understand how Wendy lived. Wanted to see her world.

And for a brief moment he had seen it -in a space larger than his house and the Curtis home combined, built out of a million delicate things that had no business being in, never mind making up a home. Following Wendy's lead, he had taken his shoes off and left 'em by the door like Moses, and winced when his realized his socks had holes in them. So he'd made conscious effort not to look at his feet and draw attention to 'em, instead focusing on the work, and then working a nicer stove than he ever seen (didn't require a kick to get it started like Mrs. C always had to do), trying to to either bring this world down to his leave or make himself equal to it.

Well, now her world, and it's keeper, were coming up the hall to meet 'em, and all Johnny could think of was Wendy's 'Family Trouble' and wondering if he should put himself in front of her.

That idea re-figured itself when the first things to greet 'em wasn't the man of the house, but Wendy's brothers, walking in clearly unafraid -if understandable surprise- to see him there.

"Johnny," the talkative one -Sam- said, while his twin -Eric, he thought- blinked in surprise. "What are you doin' here?"

"Hey kid," he greeted, glad that nothing in his voice was different, same for being a little quieter. "I'm just-"

"Wendy, whose this?" asked the soft voice of the shadow behind them, and a hand reached out, and rested on Eric's shoulder (much to the kid's evident surprise), drawing the boy back as he came forward; head tilted in baffled non-understanding -the way Wendy would, when she didn't have an immediate answer to a question in class- as his stared at Johnny. And for the sweet life of him, he couldn't do nothin' but stare back, taking the man in as the wind beat and howled outside.

He was definitely a Soc...with his clothing finely tailored and matched like all his children. But...they rested on him funny, like the clothes on a crucified scarecrow pretending to be human, while hanging like strange fruit over a world he sired, but left to its own downfall.

And something inside him simultaneously relaxed and tensed. Specially when that tried brown gaze shifted over him, his clothes yes- and Johnny resisted the urge to slouch and shove his hands in his pockets- but lingered on his face. More specificity his eyes.

Though, beyond blind alarm, Johnny didn't have the slightest clue as to what the man was gonna fine there.

"Dad, this is my friend form school," Wendy introduced him primly, pin straight, and voice Snow White high: in a way he never heard it before.

"Uh, John Cade, sir," he interjected, in what he hoped wasn't a mumble -never was good at talkin' to adults- and holding out a hand. But his attempt at his 'adult' name felt like a false skin and he quickly shed it. "Um, folks call me Johnny though."

Mr. Allen nodded, slowly, before folding his hand in a grip that...felt like Johnny was only grasping air. The boys eyed each other, as their father colored and straightened, small lips pulling, though they sobered when Wendy shot 'em a warning glance before continuing. "We're project partners in school, and I invite him over to work when it got nasty out. We already got sauce going, soyouguyswanttositandwe'llfinishupandweeat?"

Four pairs of eyes blinked at her, uncomprehending. Was that English? Johnny wasn't sure, and neither were the rest of 'em. Though Wendy's Dad seem to slowly translate it.

"Alright honey," he said, though Johnny still didn't what the hell anybody agreed too. But Wendy brightened, and he tried to take that as a good sign as she thanked her father and dragged him by the sleeve back to the stove.

* * *

S*S

Not that it was much of a surprise, but Johnny didn't have a lot of experience talking to the parents of girls. Darry an' Steve an' Two-Bit an' _especially_ Soda did (Dal didn't count here, since the girls he dated didn't give a rat's ass if their parents like 'im or not.) And all four of 'em had talked freely about what it was like to be in the hot seat, and insisted that where it was the father that that would gladly put you in the electric chair and flip the switch, the mother could be appealed to for mercy.

But here, their was no mother -less you counted Wendy's sister, who breezed in all wild haired and Ann-Margret eyed, just as they were setting the spaghetti on the table and her Dad was in the bathroom. An' it was all Johnny could do to not chock in panic when her lips purse, eyebrow arched, and she looked him up and all the way down before her mouth curved up the way Sylvia's did around him sometimes, when Dally wasn't looking.

"So Wen," she drew out slowly, finger twirled in her hair, smiling like the cat with the canary. "This is Joseph?"

Joseph? He glanced at Wendy, and saw she'd gone beat red; and realized he was on his own here.

"Uh, Johnny actually," he corrected, as he slumped in his seat. Wendy's sister sniggered.

"Right Joseph," she winked, and Wendy sat up ram straight, eyes flaring as her red deepened to match the sauce.

"Wanna sit down, Con?" she asked her sister. "That is, if you remember which seat is yours."

Her bottle green eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. "I remember just fine. When I _want to._ "

Wendy flared up at that, in a way that Johnny never seen before...but honestly looked damn good on her, cheeks flushed and gentle eyes ready to fling a zinger. Johnny swallowed a grin, the coals of his eyes lighting up. Yeah...her sister might've been Ann-Margret. But here was Audrey Hepburn.

"Just ignore 'em, they do this every time," Sam advised him. Eric nodded wisely, as their father came back and joined them.

"Connie," he said in clear surprise. She looked back at him, bored.

"Hey Dad," she drone, in a voice that would've had Johnny bleeding on the floor at his house.

Dinner continued, on clinking plates that looked to valuable for such a casual dinner. Glory what would the guys say if they could see him now?

...Well, Dally would be looking at what things could be picked up and swipe. Two-Bit would be diving into the fridge for some of the wine he seen there. Soda would be flirting with Connie, Steve definitely be checking out the cars, and Pony would be lost combing the bookshelf that lined the walls.

'Bout fifteen minutes into the thing, it was clear that Mr. Allen had the flames of exhaustion licking at his rear, slumping him in his seat, to the chagrin but not the surprise of his children. And Johnny tried not to stare as the man's life seem to seep out of him as he struggled to rise from his place at the head of the table. He stumbled, and on instinct, Johnny caught his arm and held him up.

"Thank you son," he said weary, shamefaced. The kind'a shame Johnny knew too damn well.

"...Ya welcome, sir," he muttered back, trying hard and failing not to look at Wendy, and the pain in her gaze as she hustled the boys from the table so they didn't have to see this, bringing 'em up the stairs.

"Put 'im in his chair," Connie ordered sharply, sashaying angry into the living room and pointing to the seat in question, a comfortable looking recliner. Once they had the Allen Patriarch settle...he was out shortly after, like wind blown over a candle.

Connie Allen closed her eyes and crossed her arms, breathing deeply. When Wendy came back downstairs and joined them, she opened one eye and peered at him.

"It's getting late," Connie said. "I'll drive ya home Joseph."

"...Johnny," he murmured back, hands losing their fight to stay out of his pockets. "But uh, thanks."

"Okay then people," Connie popped in her mouth, clapping her hands. "In the car."

* * *

S*S

Johnny gave directions to the Curtis House, and Wendy peered curiously at it from her seat. It was small of course, like most places on the east side, but it glowed merrily in the sudden fall of snowy rain with something gold and homely. Wendy could see Ponyboy Curtis do a double take out the window, eyes going wide before he turned to call to others.

"Looks like you've made a scene," Connie noted.

"Yeah," Johnny said, neck red as more of the guys scrambled on top of each other, poor Ponyboy getting unceremoniously booted from his place in the front by larger and stronger bodies. Before he got out, he gazed at Wendy, soft and burning.

"...Sunday, right?" he asked carefully.

"Sunday," she agreed, smiling goodbye. Johnny grinned, and made a run for the door. Con waited till his friends hauled him inside before she drove off for home.

* * *

S*S

"...So, Blessed Virgin Wendy," Connie drawled, when they were halfway home. "Guess you were right before. He is a 7.5 after all."

Her mouth peeled up, berry red and perfect while Wendy stared in shock.

"Not bad sis. Gotta say, 'm impressed."

It took a moment for those words to catch up with Wendy's brain. But when they did, a timid smile worked it's way over her face.

"...thanks, Connie."

"Memhem. Now on a scale of one to ten, how good does he kiss?"

 _"Connie!"_

"What, you haven't figured that out yet?"

"Con!"

"If you don't, I might have to try...he like cherry bam?"

 _Annnd_ the good mood was gone. Wendy saw green. Then red.

"Connie don't you _dare!"_

"Why not, hon?" Connie mocked, a vine of ivy crawling up her eyes. " _You_ clearly don't mind stealing boyfriends..."

 _"Steal-!_ I didn't steal anything Con!" Wendy cried, feeling the burn of tears. She stamped her foot -best she could in the car as they pulled in the drive way. Getting out, they ran through the open storm into the larger one waiting in the house. "And I don't want Pescare! I never wanted him! _He won't leave me alone-!"_

"Oh, _really?"_

Connie marched her soggy self down the hall to the answering machine that Wendy had taken to had avoiding the last two weeks. She cringed.

"Ah, Connie _don't_ -"

Connie's finger hit play button.

 _"Hey, Wendy, it Jack Pescare, listen baby, wanna go to the movies-"_

 _"Wendy, it's Jack, the weekends comin' an'-"_

 _"Wen, how bout we-"_

Connie turned the machine off.

"You were _saying?_ " she asked chillingly, through gritted teeth, and the silence burned between them.

Wendy swallowed. Hard. Jack had gotten their number through Beth Mays (again, still failing to see such a plan helped the girl herself) and ever since then this trouble had penetrated the peace and quiet of their home. Not used to getting a lot of calls -that was Connie's thing- Wendy had picked it up the first few times, hoping it was Johnny -he had her number after all. But it was always Jack. And every time he called...his language got dirtier and dirtier, to the point where Wendy started deleting them right after least the twins or their father heard.

Either option promised to kill her.

"...I can't control what he does, Con," Wendy said lowly, fist clenched.

"Bull," Connie hissed, something harsh and clawing reaching out of her. "He's doing this because _your_ being a prudish little bitch!"

Wendy's mouth fell open, and her eyes flew to make sure their father was still asleep, and she prayed the boys were upstairs. Bad as things could get between the Allen sisters...they'd _never_ sworn at each other like this before. Mama would've tanned their hides.

Meanwhile Con continued, jabbing a finger under her nose. "If you lay off being the Virgin Wendy for once and threw a date his way, all this'd be over by now! He'd see what a boring little square you are and been _done!_ But _nooo._..ya have to be _perfect!"_

Now she was crying -with hurt or rage or helplessness or everything in between, Wendy didn't know. And she didn't know who this bitter, lank haired, mack-up smeared creature before her was. But it wasn't the Connie that once played double dutch and Mary Mac with her, wasn't the Connie that taught her how to braid her hair. This wasn't her sister.

Thunder crash, and the sky weep with her.

"So here what's gonna happen -I'm pass it onto him through the school's grape vine that you've come 'round are are willing to go on a kiddie date with him-"

 _"Connie!"_

"-a one and done kinda deal-"

 _"No!"_

 _"Yes,"_ Connie mocked. She snorted. "Then watch as things go back to normal 'round here."

Wendy could pull her hair out. "And what if they don't Con?!"

Sharp eyes narrowed, her lip curled, and suddenly Connie's hands slammed themselves into Wendy's shoulders, knocking down off her feet and taking a chair with her, the same time white lighting lit up the room like the inside of a firecracker. Wendy gasped, and Connie looked down at her hands, then up at her sister, before her eyes harden and her jaw set.

"They better," she said icily, Wendy shuddered at how much Connie look like their mother, cringing at how disappointed she looked. "Or it's gonna get real uncomfortable in this place. And who knows? Maybe me and Joseph can get close too."

Wendy curled up, hugging her knees to her chest as Connie started for the stairs. "Did you ever think that maybe a guy that bothers your fifteen year old sister isn't _worth it!?"_

Connie didn't bother answering, thought she rushed her pace up the stairs so fast, she slipped, bashed her knee, hissed, and ran the rest of the way up, slamming her door.

Wendy stayed where she was, suddenly beyond the point where tears had the power to offer relief. So she was still and let the storm sob for her.

* * *

S*S

Next morning was Friday, all trace of storm and snow melted and gone, as if it were never there. But Wendy knew better. Way better. And now she was waiting for the last semblance to turn up as she walked with her head down into Will Rogers, saying nothing. Doing nothing. Offering the barest shrugs to concerned questions and looks from Marcia and Cherry. She just didn't have anything to say.

She'd never known Con not to make good on her word. So she was wait. Through gym class, through study hall. Sitting apart from the rest at lunch. And some sixth sense of hers told her that the waiting would be done when she returned to her locker to get her book for art class.

"Hey Wendy."

She almost rolled her eyes, if she could get her head outta the fog. Not much for originality here, huh?

"So I heard you changed you mind."

So Connie did it. She really, honestly, did it. Something inside her crumpled, hard and fast. And cried for logic. Where was the _sense?_ His _stupid_ hand was in her hair again.

"Sooo, how 'bout I take you for ice cream at six on Sunday, huh?"

 _Sunday.._.Wendy clenched her jaw. Yep, Con had definitely done _that_ on purpose, just to rub it in how powerless she'd made her. But Johnny had mentioned dinner at the Curtis' was at eight...and how long could it take to eat ice cream?

She nearly groaned. She should say no. It was burning in her gut to say no -far deeper than mere annoyance. In that primordial knot something screeched that bad behavior shouldn't be rewarded. But apparently, the rest of the world didn't get the memo. And she was just tired...so tired of fighting.

Besides...she could play it out in her mind how it would go if she said _no_. Jack would groan and whine about why she hated him for the rest day. Word would get back to Connie. And home would be hell. Where, apparently, harsh words and harsh blows were no longer off the table. And the more Connie leaned that way, the more likely that the boys would be caught in the cross-hairs, sooner than later...likely cause they'd tried to protect _her._

From their sister.

Wendy flinched at the thought. _Mama would've died..._

That wasn't happening to their family...what was left of it anyways.

"...Okay," she mumbled, shuffling, hugging her books to her. And her newly dropped opinion of herself skydived even further, when Jack leaned back and crowed.

"Great! I'll pick you up a five-forty, okay?"

"Sure..."

If Pescare noticed the bursting enthusiasm, he didn't say. The bell rang, so he had to take off. Wendy sighed, and pressed her mouth to the spine of her book.

Maybe...maybe Connie would be right. He'd see just how boring she was and this mess would be over. It was...possible right?

That's what she keep telling herself as she hurried her way to art class, not noticing the pair of dark, coal eyes following her, watching the whole thing from the drinking fountain.

* * *

Reviews make me happy so tell me what you thought and I'll update sooner.

Well, poor Wendy having the worst Friday in the history of Fridays. So thing with Connie and Wendy have finally come to ahead, as did Johnny's meeting with the Allen family. Who in their own way are as broken as his own.


	20. Fall Out

RockabillyHippie: I love how protective you are of Wendy and Johnny -I thick you'll make a great mother someday! Glad this give ya somthing to do!

tomeii:You'll have to wait and see. And yes, Connie's twisted.

Jcuret98:Wow, I love that there was such a reaction to the tension between Wendy and Connie. Glad you liked it!

lovelyhatter:Before we get to Wendy's sence with Jack, we have a sort of scene with Johnny and Jack, hop you like.

Riariabookworm:I'm so glad you like it!

bookgirl18: Connie doesn't have much thought in what she does unfortunately.

guest: Here ya go!

* * *

Chapter XX

* * *

S*S

Relief glowed on Wendy's face, perking up the moment she sweep into sunlit room of English class with the fullness of _rest_ and _break._ And the smile only grew wider when she saw that not only had she gotten to class early, but Johnny was there too, slouched in his seat in the back. And it was only the two of them there, so they had time to talk.

And she was so happy, Wendy didn't notice how Johnny shuffled into himself as she drew closer, solitary as an oyster.

"Hey Johnny," she chirped as she sat down, eager to share with him the one good thing that had happened today -when she gone to check the mailbox this morning, what had Wendy found waiting, but a pretty lil' certificate confirming that those stories she had submitted for the contest had gotten first place -with the prize of publishment in a magazine and prize money of a hundred of her own dollars. She'd never had so much money of her own before -and she had no idea what she wanted to to do with it.

Her feet crossed at the ankles, free of their shoes and rubbing together slightly.

But...she was hoping Johnny might have an idea or two.

But whatever she was hopin' for putter to a halt, as Johnny bare glanced up at her, mouth pressing as he gave a quick nod and went back to staring at his notebook.

Her smile vanished.

"Hey...something wrong?" she asked, shuffling closer, watching him intensely. He shrugged. She looked him over...nothing seemed out of the ordinary. He appeared no worse than yesterday, and hadn't been gone from school in a while now...something she liked to think had something to do with her.

"Are you...having a bad day?" She tried to touch his arm, but he pulled it back and shrugged again. Her heart sank, with a plop like a stone in a well.

"...Do...do you want me to leave you alone?"

Shrug.

Wendy couldn't ask anything more, cause that was when class started coming in, and she was force to scramble for her own supplies and notebook, flipping it to a clean page as Mr. Syme began the class what they thought about Pip relationship with Estella, and whether or not she actually loved him.

"Mr. Randle?"

Steve made a face as he was forced to sit up and stop twirling a pencil. He snorted.

"No way, that rich snob don't love nobody -not even herself if she wanted," he sneered. "Don't know how too."

"So maybe she does," a brown hair girl in a yellow dress, called Evelyn 'Evie' Hats said in challenge, glaring at Randle. "I mean...she keeps warnin' him 'bout her, don't she? She doesn't wanna hurt 'im."

Beth Mays rolled her eyes.

"That's not the same as lovin' him though," she huffed. "That's just feelin' sorry for 'im."

Johnny's shoulder twitched, and he ducked his dark head lower, like a fallen ember.

"Good points all," Mr. Syme approved, turning his gleaming spectcales 'round the room. "Miss Allen? What about you?"

Wendy jumped, blinking as she blushed and fumbled out an answer. "Well she...she cares about him for sure."

Mr. Syme nodded mildly. "I see. Can you explain?"

Wendy licked her lips.

"Well...when their at that party and she," she blinked, paled, and swallowed hard as two and two added up in her head, making a horrible four. When she spoke again, her voice was small. "She flirts with and pursues Bentley Drummle...right in front of Pip. And when he's angry and asks her why, she wants to protect him."

 _"Protect him?"_ Steve Randle turned around fully in his seat, green eyes narrowed in distaste. "That ain't what I'd call it, sweetheart."

"But it is!" Evie jumped in fiercely, violet eyes ablaze. "When she asked him if he wanted her to device him, she tell him that even if she been tricked by her crazy mother to used others, she doesn't want to use him."

 _"Do you want me then", said Estella, turning suddenly with a fixed and serious, if not angry, look, "to deceive and entrap you?"_

 _"Do you deceive and entrap him, Estella?"_

 _"Yes, and many others—all of them but you."_

These are all good points," Mr. Syme agreed, delighted, scanning the room again, his gaze of choice landed on Johnny.

"Mr. Cade?"

His head jerked up, the embers in his eyes open and flying out in reconfiguration.

"Uh, what?" he stumbled, fingers curling on the edges of his desk.

"Which side do you agree with? Does Estella feel anything for Pip or doesn't she?" Mr. Syme prompted.

Johnny's gaze darted downward for a moment, and his hand reached for his bangs. He breathed out and shrugged, hand curled in a loose fist on the wood of the table.

"Donno know, sir. Can't say," he said flatly. So much so that Wendy and Steve Randle both stared at him.

Something glinted in Mr. Syme's eye, and he nodded quickly, turning attention away from his student.

"Well that's alright too -if fact, it might be better to hold off all judgement until you have all the facts," he said with a meaningful air, rocking back and forth on his toes. The subject changed to a new topic -redemption and second chances.

Wendy didn't hear a word. And when class was over, Johnny all but ran out the door with the crowd, and she was left desperately biting her lip till she tasted cooper on her teeth.

At his desk now, Mr. Syme looked over at her with concern. "Everything all right, Miss Allen?"

Taking in a long breathe, Wendy forced her feeling down into the box Mama had trained her to have -like Pandora in reverse, Mama called it- the lid closed and held shut as she shaky packed up and bore her burden.

"I'm fine sir, thank you," she answered, eyes down as she shuffled out of class.

* * *

S*S

Johnny didn't wait for any of the guys to catch up, once he was out of the school; flying down the step like the very stones o' this place was on fire. To stop was to burn, and God he was burnin' up already.

 _Glory..._

He needed to get out. So he did, move fast down the road with harsh wind tearing at his jacket as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, puffs of air bursting out in silver mist. When he was little, real little, his grandmother would tell him he was making angels when he breathed in cold weather.

He didn't know why he did that. Why he did any of that...all his life, Johnny had thought he known a few things for certain 'bout himself -that he was quiet, that he was drifter, that save for the gang, he was on his own, and despite all that, he could take care of himself. And like Mr. C said, taking care of yourself meant being able to deal fair and square with other folk around ya.

He winced, and kicked an empty soda bottle further down the road. Normally he could do that -he'd never woke up in the mornin', deciding that today he was gonna hurt somebody. But today...well, he did just that didn't he?

 _No shit Sherlock._

He press his mouth tighter, gritting his teeth. He couldn't help it. Wendy...Wendy did things to him. With her hair and those eyes and that smile that lit up her face whenever she saw him. _Him_.

Her smile use to confuse the hell out him -he used to wanna look 'round, see who was really getting it...'fore it slowly dawned that it was _him_.

He shook his head.

He'd should've know better then to go reading more into it than he originally told himself too -telling himself that it was something special, something that was just for him. Wishful thinking, right.

Back in the start of the year, when he and Wendy first started talking, the safer, saner part of his brain -that snipped at him a little like Dally would- had strenuously warned him not to go readin' anything more than friendship in their time together...but honestly, that lil' voice didn't stand a chance, with those big cobalt mirrors went starin' into his own, open and shy and maybe just a little curious. But completely unafraid, to the point he hadn't wanted to hold her gaze.

Been a 'long time since he'd seen anything so pure.

His lips twitch in a wryly manner. Course, once he'd gotten to know her, he gotten to know that she was actually human, who left the halo at 'ome most days like the rest o' 'em. 'Stead she was a person, with ticks and humor and a nervous fear; one that made her take care not to step on cracks, or walk under ladders, or turn her homework in late.

Nervous fear that had bubbled up in her eyes, as he refused to talk to her today.

His hands shoved deeper in his pockets.

He couldn't help it. She _did_ things to him. And seein' her accept Jack Pescare's invite to a date nearly killed him. But did he even have a right to be mad? It wasn't like she and him were...steady or somethin'. Hell, they'd never even been on a date, their one attempt stopped before it began. Like anything else good in his life. He ducked his head lower. Gave that bottle another kick.

And really, what did he expect from her? Huh? Johnny wasn't an idiot -he knew the score, and how it went for guys like him.

They didn't ended up with girls like Wendy -nice girls with soft lookin' hair, skin unblemished from not wearing too much make-up (Wendy only over wore a little eye shadow and lip gloss -and only if she remembered, sometimes she forgot) and millions of words and thoughts he didn't know, spoke in ways he never thought of before, babbling out of her in an unstopped cheerful steam.

Girls like Wendy always ended up with guys like Pescare; guys who could take 'em places, pay for it, and leave a tip like it was tossing bread crumbs to pigeons.

He winced again, and sucked air through his teeth.

And guys like him?

They ended up with girls like Sylvia, if they were lucky _-_ with bottle blond hair, mean little smiles, hungry eyes (like she was Sylvester and you were Tweety), and claw-like hands that once actually tried to slide 'cross his stomach under his shirt...which hadn't felt _all_ bad, 'till he saw her eyes, and saw how much of a game it was to her -the more people hurt, the better.

And Christ Jesus if that wasn't something to look forward too...he groaned, channeling his inner Ponyboy. He grabbed his bangs again, yanking 'em.

He really blew it. After a cold shoulder like that, Wendy sure as hell wouldn't want to talk to him no more. She'd brush him off as a friend she once had who turned out to be a jerk. She might even tell Pescare 'bout it, or some other Socy guy she could date if really she wanted too -and she could, Johnny knew more guys than just Pescare and him like her -why wouldn't they? Wendy was real pretty -prettier than she knew, Johnny thought sometimes.

As pretty as her heart, whose beat he'd felt through their clothes, when she hugged him that day of their failed not-date.

Which was why Johnny was careful when he was with her, making sure nobody else was 'round to see and tell -he didn't want to ruin her reputation. She might get a...he didn't know...pass, since she was new and all, and didn't get how bad the Greaser-Soc divide could be. He didn't want to chance it. But she kept pulling him in, unashamed of his company, or what it could do down the road.

He'd heard stories, though, 'bout what happened to Soc girls, when powers-that-be decided they were a little too nice to their kind. That their 'friends' would ditch 'em, and Soc guys would deem her 'easy', for keep a Greaser's company. And shit would happen to 'em.

And _that_ really would kill him. Wendy deserved better -she deserved to grow up, marry a -he didn't know- doctor or'a lawyer or somethin', and write all 'em stories she wanted, whole book fulls. And when she was done with writing, she could have a couple a kids or more, with her dark hair and cobalt eyes, and shy, open smile...

He sighed, finally lifting his face up to the pale November sun.

An' she'd have a family that loved her, and didn't hurt her and could afford dinner every night -Johnny was just a Grease, he couldn't do nothing but dirty her up-

The blare of a car horn blasted him away from his thoughts, scattering them like dying leaves on the pavement as Johnny looked up and pressed his mouth -making his eyes go blank- as a blue mustang drove by slowly, just enough that the car-ful of jeering Soc's could get their jollies.

* * *

S*S

"Hey," howled one, with dark Superman hair, slapping the door of his car, and Johnny kept himself from starting as he recognized those Pharaoh rings. "No littering! So get yer-self of the street Greaser!"

"He's leavin' a grease trail where every he goes!" another curly haired guy laughed -the one that had sounded like Darry 'fore an' sure didn't know.

"Ever hear of a shower Greaser?" -that one was from Pescare, because God, when He woke up this morning, decided He hated Johnny Cade today (probably cause He knew what he would do to Wendy). His green eyes were gleeful, his smirk cold an' slimy, his speech slurred.

Something green and poisonous sloshed in his stomach. Mixed with disbelief. Wendy was going on a _date_ with this guy?

"Why ya walkin' lone Grease?" Pescare keep at it. "Your girlfriend decide she could do better than ya?"

 _...Yep,_ it was official. God hated 'im.

He didn't say nothin', but at this point he'd stopped walkin' -not wantin' it to look like he was slouching away. This was a busy street, it wasn't likely they get out to jump him here. Sides he had that pop-bottle at his feet here -and he bent an' picked it up, so if push came to shove he had less thunder in his mouth and more lightning in his hand.

If he absolutely had to, he'd break it the way Two-bit 'ad taught him -an' hope he didn't cut himself to ribbons doing it. Either way though, he'd have a knife.

"She's makin' ya a _cornuto_ right now isn't she, Greaser?" Pescare laid on, he and his friends enjoying his horseshit Italian, nails on a chalkboard that made Johnny's face scrunch up; all for the benefit of some girls Johnny hadn't noticed before, as drunk and laughing as their guys- " _Piccola figa cavalca il mio cazzo non è lei?"_

That made a little gasp escape him, with a cold smoldering feeling of burning in his eyes and his hands -that was the only way he had the guts to do what he did next.

 _"_ _Vai a cagare, l'unica cosa che cavalca il tuo cazzo è tua madre,"_ he shot back slowly, coldly, carefully, feeling the mask of his own mother's Sicilian disdain for anything and everything 'lesser' come alive to him.

It had the welcomed effect -his command of the language may have been shit, but Pescare knew 'nough as a fellow Italian that he'd frozen completely, and the laughing of the others in the car puttered out as little show went off the script.

 _Their_ script at least.

They didn't have the chance to do anything 'bout it though -the cars behind the blue mustang were fed up with waiting for it to move -they were people with places to go and things to do.

"Move it ya punks! Take up time on ya own watch!"

"The light's green!"

"Move it!"

Johnny grinned and didn't try to hide it -wasn't so fun when ya were at the receivin' end of it, now was it?

So cursing, they had to go, and Pharaoh rings scrambled to get into gear.

"You're dead someday Greaser!" Pescare shouted as he got smaller and father away. "You hear me! You-are- _dead!_ _Morte!_ Pick the flowers for ya grave!"

"See ya Joseph!" one of the girls cooed, tapping something in his memory he couldn't quite recall with the blood pumping.

Didn't mater he guess. Pescare carried on like this for as long as he could, and Johnny called out _"Vaffanculo!"_ , just cause he could, cause of the fierce, quiet satisfaction that came with it. Not quite of victory...they hadn't even fought, so it wasn't like he won nothin' really.

No, the question here was whether or not he gave an inch of his ground -literally or otherwise. On his mother's side he was Italian. But on his father's he was Apache -born and breed to fight losing battles. And choose to do so 'cause the shame be worse if you didn't even _try..._

...maybe that was enough.

 _"You'll lose fights, mutt,"_ his father voice reminded him -from a time where he didn't wince to see Ray Cade's hand reaching out to him -that pet name once carried the faintest scrap of bemused affection he'd die three times over to get. The Bemused Affection that vanished completely once his grandmother and Uncle Joe died.

 _"You'll lose more in life than you'll ever win."  
_

Johnny been 'bout...eh, he'd say eight...when he gotten that bit of wisdom, and he could sill feel his father's rough knuckles carding through his hair. He remembered cause it was the last time his father touched him without the intent to cause pain.

He sighed, and shoved the dirty pop bottle in his pocket with his hands, case any jokers tried to bother 'im again...he wasn't sure if he could honestly cut someone, but least it would help a bluff.

 _"...Ya ought ta start carryin' a blade Johnnycakes, if ya gonna be stupid and walk by ya lonesome"-_ Dal's voice gritted at him, in the same way he always pestered him in real life, over these things. _"You may not care 'bout ya own ass but we do ya little -."_

Johnny felt something on his mouth twitch faintly, 'fore it puttered out with a sigh and he circle back 'round to Wendy, and started kicking himself 'gain. He was too 'shamed to call her up and apology...hell would he even say? So it was a safe bet that he wouldn't be picking her up to take to the Curtis' this Sunday.

That could've been his chance, _their_ chance, if ever been one. But now it was blown 'way in the cold wind.

* * *

Well the real world's crazy now, so hope this helps. Stay safe everybody! And Johnny's comeback to Pescare comes from Doc Holiday an' Johnny Ringo Latin Battle in Tombstone -cheak it out on youtube if ya like.


	21. Beautiful Wendy

lulusgardenfli: I'm glad you love the Parallels between the two stories -I think it adds depth to the whole thing. And I thing Johnny is most poetic in his guilt...just wait till we get to Bob's killing...hooboy.

Guest: Glad to hear it! I think you'll love this chapter!

Josh Voices Swayla Audio Fics: Don't worry we have some time before that.

RockabillyHippie: I love how invested you are! I really hope you love this chapter! Keep reviewing!

tomeii: He gets something in this chapter, I promise.

sarah0406: Yes, sneaky match making teachers are the best aren't they!

* * *

Chapter XXI

* * *

S*S

"...So let me get this straight," Cherry said slowly, green eyes flared and narrowed with unspoken suspicion as she finally stopped pacing the floor of Wendy's bedroom, where she and Marcia had brought themselves, this Sunday afternoon as the sun dropped low. They'd just shown up on the doorstep, brought there by the rumors of Jack's impending 'date' with her -concern in their gazes and questions 'bout her sanity on their lips.

With the effectively of a bolshevik firing squad, Wendy's friends had marched inside, marched her upstairs, and sat her on the bed while Marcia played good cop besides her and Cherry trailed fire in her wake as bad cop, pacing the length of Wendy's floor -her whirling record of the Essex playing to drown out their conversation from her brothers prying ears.

 _My friends all tell me, go to him, run to him._ _ _Say sweet lovely things to him.__ _An' teeeelll him-_

"After everythin' that kid did to you, every-time ya told 'im to take a long walk off a short dock..." her arms went out, flying to opposites sides like an airplane, palms open in irritated confusion. "And then ya turn 'round an' tell 'im _yes?"_

Just when she felt she couldn't sink any lower. Wendy's shoulders slumped.

"...Yep," she muttered.

 _He's the onnnne-_

 _"Why?"_ Cherry half-shouted, resuming her pacing as she ranted, temper running faster than her tongue. "Ya smarted than this Wendy! I'd expect a girl like Beth Mays t' turn on a dime when a guy been an absolute _menace_ to her...but you!? Wendy what possessed ya-"

"Cherry, easy," Marcia intervened softly -showing her true self at the center of her nesting-doll, something gentle under her humor, tender as she took over.

"Wendy...is there somethin' goin' on?" she asked, brown eyes careful. "Somethin'...somethin' being held over ya head?"

Flames redirected, Cherry whirled back to life. "Is it ya friend? Did they find out 'bout Johnny-"

 _"No,"_ Wendy snapped, with more life in her voice that there been in days, making both her friends start. "No they haven't."

 _Fly to him, sigh to him,_ chirped and chimed Anita Humes, main singer of Essex, _t_ _ell 'im I would die for him-_

Then her lip trembled, nails digging into her hands while her gaze dropped to her stocking toes.

"Don't think that it would matter now anyways," Wendy said quietly, throat burning. "He won't talk to to me."

 _Because I get so timid-and-shy._ _Each time that I look 'im in the eye-_

Both of the girls shared a quick glance, that tight wire strung through the room eased, softened to a ribbon. Albeit, with some confusion.

"Johnny...Johnathan Cade?" Marcia questioned, eyes round with a 'hold up' expression. Like a chocolate lab puppy, she gazed from Cherry to Wendy and back again, clearly recombobulating. "That...that quiet lil' guy, with the jean jacket? Dark eyes?"

"Black," Wendy corrected, hand raising up to touch her cross on her throat. "He...he has black eyes."

Warm, lit with embers when he was quietly happy...frozen and blank, when he was hurting.

Cherry and Marcia swapped a look again. And the redhead softly sat down on the smaller girl's other side.

"...Wendy..." Cherry said, looking like she was trying very hard to say the right thing, as she stirred the conversation back on course. "...Why'd ya agree to go on a date, Jack?"

 _And teeeelll him...he's the onnnne-_

Well that was the million dollar question, wasn't it, Wendy thought bitterly; and why did she feel so inarticulate and powerless, flailing her arms around like a baby about to throw a crying fit? Welling in helplessness, the unfairness. Cause the answer -the true answer- would decimate any remaining peace she had at home, school... _any place_.

There was no portion of her life where, if she wanted, her sister couldn't rip it all to shreds. And she could too. Wendy had seen Connie do so to a number of girls who'd fallen out of her favor -or crossed her path the wrong way...rumors and malice combined to be more deadly, more than any jumping. Before Mama died, there had been a restraint, a limit of control, that Con kept over this side of her...in the targets she choose, and on who's behalf...like an mongoose defending a child's crib. But now... _now_...

Now Connie didn't seem to find any difference when she lashed out. And there was no Mama to snap her back into place.

"I figured...I figured ignoring him wasn't working, telling him no didn't that if I did, he'd get bored and leave me alone," Wendy muttered awkwardly, the lie sounding lamer out-loud than it did in her head.

The looks on Cherry's and Marcia's faces only confirmed this. Cherry was clearly gearing up for one of her ego-smashing lectures, that Marcia quickly intercepted by bopping up like a teacher -actually doing a dang good impression of Mr. Syme in how she purposely arranged her stance, making Wendy's mouth tug.

"Okay then...if bored outta his mind is what ya'll going for, then we can do that," Marcia said with forced perkiness. "Here's the plan-"

And all in all, Wendy had to admit it was a pretty _good_ plan...possibly the only good plan she'd ever heard of than involved absolutely nothing. She didn't wash up for the date, she didn't change into something fresh. Gosh, she didn't even brush her hair. And something defiant and intransigent was strengthening in her.

Alright, thanks to Connie and her own word, there wasn't any getting out of this...but that didn't mean she had to pretend to enjoy it.

Plus, in case things truly got unbearable, Cherry briskly suggestion a sleep-over at her house, so Wendy had an excuse to call the date off at whatever time it was.

 _I got a love so true, but I'm sad and blue. Cause it's easier, easier, said-than-done._

"Well hon...ya look perfectly unexcited!" Marcia chimed brightly, as the three of them stood in-front of Wendy's mirror.

Her mouth twitched. "Thanks...really."

Marcia squeezed her hand. "No problem, Wendy. What are friends for?"

 _Easier-er-er-er, said than done. Duhduhduh._

* * *

S*S

That faint trickle of good mood sputtered and died when five-forty rolled around, and Jack was at her front door to pick her up. The first he did when Wendy opened the door was furrow his brow, glance her over up and down once, with 'what the hell's she's wearing?' plaster all over his face -though to his credit he didn't say it. And to be fair, that _was_ the effect she'd been going for, in her plain white dress and and blue sweater, so it really shouldn't have made her feel so un-pretty...

Really. Wendy sighed, though it came out as a groan. _Here we go._

"Her Wendy, you...uh...ready?" he said with a faint suggestion in his tone, like she might want to run back up stairs for her mack up. Hemph.

Wasn't like he was dressed for the Taj Mahal himself, Wendy noted wryly, holding her clutch, filled with emergency money. So she look him in eye and chimed a false sounding, "Yep."

Which left him with no choice but bring them over to his car -mustang like Bob's, though his was yellow- and open the door for her.

Wendy close her eyes. Ice Cream. It was just ice cream. She'd be home before she knew it.

* * *

S*S

And when they pulled up to Three Scoops, they met with a host of dissatisfied kids, all grumbling before the hastily tapped sign on the sliding window, declaring the the ice cream machine was broken and under going repairs.

Nearly ready to dance the can-can, Wendy turned in sheer delighted, about to declare the date a bust, when Jack beat her to the draw.

"Great! We can check out the new movie at the drive in!"

...And since Wendy fumbled to come up a reason why they _shouldn't_ go -to the dive in they went. Dang it.

That new movie wasn't any good either - it had no plot and the main draw was the beach scenes with lots of girls in bikinis. Jack like it alright, but Wendy could feel her IQ points dropping as minutes ticked by. Her bad mood soured further when she glanced at her watch...as saw it was only half an hour to eight, and the dinner she surely was no longer invited to anyways...but...but still. Her mouth quivered.

But apparently, the universe wasn't done telling Wendy how much it hated her, cause it had Prescare shuffling closer to her. Which made Wendy sit up and cross her arms over her chest, while her legs twined together. If it had been any more apparent she didn't want to touch or be touched, she would've had it flashing over her head like a neon sign.

Prescare missed the memo -but the moment his hand settled on her knee, Wendy was already halfway out of the car.

"Where are ya goin'?!" he cried out disbelievingly, following her out.

"To get popcorn," she snapped the first thing to come to mind, tossing it over her shoulder, Jack stared after her for a moment, before angry blowing hot air, and striving off for Bob and some of the boys, parked a few cars away -they were drinking, clearly already drunk, and Jack seemed content to join 'em...reducing Wendy's chances of coming back to zero.

Wonderful...but now...she didn't have a way to get home.

 _Wonderful,_ she groaned again. She didn't stop her pace till she was near the concession line, filled with Greasers and Socs glaring and shouting rude things to each other, and Wendy was _sick_ of it. She thought of her family, languished and splintered without Mama. She thought of Johnny...tried and battered. Wasn't life hard enough, without adding more troubles to the world?

There had to be...gotta be...just some place where people were just...people. Plain, ordinary, run of the mill people. Who went to work, loved their families, and didn't hurt each other.

She huffed, a strange tugging sensation climbing up her heart to her throat, then her eyes. She hastily wiped them. Well, if there was such a place, it wouldn't be one ya got to by a boat...or a plane...or the rumbling rails of a train...no...it was to faraway. The closest Wendy had ever gotten to it, was in the notes of her mother's last lullaby.

She shook her head, blinked again, pulling her sweater closer in the brisk November air, the breath of her life nipping her nose in silvery-white lace.

"A coke, please," a raspy autumn tone sounded to her right. Snapping her head up, dark coal eyes met hers, widening in surprise just as hers were, to see each other there. After all, why wasn't he at the Curtis'? It had to be near dinnertime. The concern bubbled up in her, but before she could ask, Johnny's eyes fell away, and he started to turn, drink in hand.

Wendy didn't remember her brain giving the feet the order, but somehow she was at Johnny's side, hand softly arresting his wrist, holding till he stopped and looked at her with naked startlement.

"We need to talk," she said simply -no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The steel in her resolved must've been apparent as Johnny searched her gazed, nodded once, and allowed her to pull him around the back of the concession stand under a distorted crab apple tree, littered with the butts of cigarettes and candy wrappers -not the place for a serious talk, but beggars can't be choosers.

"...Well we're here, Wendy," Johnny ventured carefully, after a moment, something cautious in his gaze -like the thought had crossed his mind that she might grow claws and tear 'im to shreds. "What ya wanna talk 'bout?"

Wendy swallowed a breath, forcing herself to square her shoulders. "Why are you ignoring me?"

Johnny's face twitch and his teeth hissed -he looked very much like he rather skip that question as he shuffled.

"I'm not...really...I mean..." he muttered, shrugging a shoulder under his jean jacket. "Ya weren't talkin' to me either-"

"Only cause you weren't talking to me," Wendy cried, at to their mutually horror, her eyes got shiny again. "I don't know why either -Whatever I did wrong I'm _s-s-sorry_ -"

Johnny's hand grabbed at his bangs, eyes going a million miles an hour. "No Wen, ya didn't -I mean, it was- I was -I was having a bad day and -I'm sorry Wendy, please don't-"

"So I wasn't mad at you...you weren't mad at me- and we gave each other the cold shoulder over a misunderstanding?" Wendy laughed, high and bitter, uncaring as to what she was saying -everything just spilling out. "Well, that's perfect isn't it -I get Conned -pun intended- into this stupid date, with the biggest ignoramus this side of Oklahoma -who, by the way, has to be the worse date in the long sad history of bad dates! He doesn't care what anyone's wants, he doesn't read body language, and I've never felt so un-pretty in all my _life_ -"

* * *

S*S

In the midst of all this deluge, Johnny had listen silently, processing most of it in, though some of it didn't no sense to him -what the _heck_ was an ignor...ignor...what-it?- He heard Ponyboy use that word before, but the meaning escaped him.

But what Wendy declared next rang loud and clear -and totally, absolutely false. So false he couldn't stay silent, no matter that the truth was only muttered to his mud-cased sneakers.

"I think ya really pretty, Wendy."

* * *

S*S

Anything she had to say next sputtered and died in her mouth once the fallen leaves of Johnny's murmur hit her ears; ember-lit, ember-warm, veined with thin lines of gold. Just as easily as Pescare's once over had made her so un-pretty, this small compliment set a crown of twelve stars on her brow.

Johnny turned red the moment he realized she'd heard him, shuffling as his eyes darted away, then back to her, oddly naked beyond any removal of clothes. As naked as Adam, when he first realized he now had Eve, and was no longer alone.

"...Johnny?" she called softly, more softly than she'd ever used her voice before, almost the kind you'd used for family, but not quite. Whatever it was, it must've been the right tone, cause those coals for eyes meet hers, teetering in the middle of allowing warmth or freezing her out.

She swallowed, hand pushing one strand of hair behind her ear. "Do...do you really think I'm pretty?"

Johnny got redder, and glanced down a moment, he waited, listening for a moment longer to the tuning fork that had been struck upon a second star. She didn't hear it, but he must've 'cause it gave him the courage to lift his head, and nod more confidently, eyes ablaze with coal-lit warmth.

"Heck Wendy," he said, shy but almost smiling, lips quirked and lopsided. "I think you're beautiful."

The word burn soft between them, sweet scented with a hundred things left unsaid under it. Wendy's curled knuckle flew up to her mouth, pressed agaisnt the giggle of glee that wanted to fly from her mouth, the corners of her mouth lifted like her shoulders as joy squirmed through her, like fairy dust.

 _Think of the happiest things...its the same as having wings..._ and it was, it really, _really_ , was. It was a minor miracle her feet stayed on the ground.

Johnny was laughing to a little -almost in disbelief, that he was here, that he had said what he did...and that she was here to hear it.

"...Thank you," she finally said, glowed, fingers tangled with themselves, heel turning in the dirt and gravel of the lot.

Johnny nodded and seem to stand a little taller, hands shoved in his pockets of his jacket.

"'Welcome Wendy," he said before clearing his throat and rolling his shoulders. "Ah...if ya wanna...I...I could still take ya by the Curtis' for that dinner, if ya -"

"Yeah, _yes_ ," Wendy jumped for the offer, grabbing it with greedy fingers. She blushed. "Yes...I'd like that."

Gaze on the ground, she only heard the crush of the gravel, until Johnny's sneakers appeared besides her flats.

"Wendy?..."

Taking a breath she lifted her chin, and met his eyes.

"Yeah?"

"Ready to go?"

Slowly, carefully, Wendy allowed herself to smile. "Yeah."

She wasn't sure how it happened -did she reached for him, he reach for her?- Well one or the other, 'cause in the next moment her fingers were shielded between his own -a soft olive and deep tan. And even as they left behind the lights of the movie lot, she could see Johnny grinning pleasantly.

She reddened, but smiled herself.

Oh _let_ him.

* * *

Next chapter...the dinner! Tell me if you want Soda's famous blue spaghetti to make an appearance...Ps. if anyone living in eastern Oklahoma now...my condolences. Stay safe.


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